


Different

by k_night6284 (Schiriki)



Series: What If… He Was A Prince [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schiriki/pseuds/k_night6284
Summary: THIS STORY IS GENDRY'S POV ON THE EVENTS OF "THAT'S NOT ME" (SERIES PART 1, ARYA'S POV):Gendry is Robert's and Cersei's trueborn son and heir to the throne. Arryn died of old age. Robert never came to Winterfell. Eddard became the new Hand. He and Sansa went to King's Landing. Half a year later, Cat drags Arya to court, to turn her into a proper lady and find her a suitable match, too. But Arya has other plans, she has no interest in suitors. Yet still, Gendry prefers her over of her perfect sister. And so the real trouble for Catelyn Tully begins...ATTENTION:I changed my name (my old pseud was: Schiriki)NEXT UPDATE:Chapter 6 should come in 2021.HAS THIS STORY A HAPPY END?My comment #1 below chapter 1 just says YES or NO, without spoiling anything. But if you want Arya to become Gendry's queen, this is no story for you.WARNING!As writer of this story I give no warrant, you readers will approve or like my story, or the depiction of events happening or characters appearing/mentioned in it. So, keep in mind, the time you spend on reading my story is not refundable and should you decide to read it anyway, that happens entirely at your own risk.





	1. The Threat (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This work is based very, very loosely on “A Song of Ice and Fire” by George R. R. Martin and the HBO series “Game of Thrones”. Hence, I don't own the characters or canon-storylines.
> 
> 2\. English is not my first language, and this story here is only my second attempt on creative writing - I never had any training in creative writing, not even in high school - so please don't expect much.
> 
> 3\. This story is told from Gendry's POV (besides one chapter), which means he tells you his opinion on people/things/events. So you shouldn't take all he is seeing/hearing/thinking for facts. At times, he might even lie to himself and whenever he does, he is lying to you as well. And most of all, he is villainising certain characters (like his parents and Margaery) a great deal. Because he feels trapped in his life, and feels these people are the ones responsible, who try to keep him trapped and try to push him into choices and directions he doesn't want.
> 
> 4\. After certain trolling comments, I feel the need to say:  
I did not write this story to please or entertain anyone particular. I wrote it mainly for myself. Because, well, I felt like writing it. Therefore, I cannot guarantee any of you readers, that you will like this story or approve it, or the depiction of events happening or characters appearing/mentioned in it. Meaning, your time spent on reading this story, is not refundable.  
So, I advise you rather NOT to read it, if you are unsure if you can handle wasting your time on a story that doesn't go the way you want. Actually, in that case, I strongly advise you try writing your own story, since only then you have a chance to get exactly what you want. After all, that is my reason why I started writing this fan-fiction here ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 21 Gendry is annoyed and disillusioned. He feels trapped in his own life, surrounded and besieged by the ever same people for over six years now - he is close to giving in to resignation. Hence, Myrcella's attempt of bullying him into giving his blessing to Trystane courting her, feels quite like an empty threat to Gendry. But is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS JUST A PROLOGUE - YOU CAN SKIP IT.
> 
> I had thought a while about if I should publish this prologue or not. Writing-wise it isn't very good and I'm sorry for that. But during writing "That's Not Me" I got asked, what makes Arya so special for Gendry and why he so quickly takes a liking to her. So I wanted to give you readers a short insight into Gendry's mindset before he meets Arya. And that is the reason why I decided to publish it nonetheless. Unfortunately, the text was too long to post in the chapter notes, so I had to publish it as a separate chapter.
> 
> But technically this story only starts with chapter 2 "The Arrival & The Vaults". So, feel free to just skip this prologue here and go straight to the real stuff, if you don't like it.

Gendry wanted to laugh at Myrcella, when she threatened to let their mother in about the next girl he liked, if he wouldn’t back off and leave Trystane be. He didn’t laugh, though. Yet, not because there was any girl. _There wasn’t._ But rather because of the ones he had once liked. _Like Aly._

Once his mother had realised, the witty kitchen maid had meant more to him than just a careless fling, Cersei Lannister had intervened promptly. From one day to the next, Alyce had stopped waiting for him at the end of the tunnels upon his return from Mott’s shop. _She had vanished into thin air,_ three days before his sixteenth nameday. And only a moon’s turn later Gendry had found out, his mother had promised Aly’s father a pound of silver stags, if he in return convinced his daughter to join the silent sisters.

Gendry had been so livid at that, he had left King’s Landing overnight and had remained at Storm’s End for nearly half a year. Before eventually Myrcella and Tommen had made him return.

Unfortunately though, had had his little rebellion near to no effect on his mother and all the more on the Tyrells. The Queen of Thorns had already been miffed before his escape. As her precious granddaughter had been at court for almost a year and yet neither Gendry nor his parents had ever even hinted a marriage proposal in all that time. Before Gendry then even had dared to insult Margaery by abandoning her in the capital, to sulk over a common kitchen wench for several moons – stretching the Tyrells’ patience with him for good.

Gendry had naturally been more careful with his following flings; his uncle Tyrion had even provided him with the right men to discretely safeguard the girls. But eventually either his mother or the Tyrells had still found ways to get rid of them nonetheless. Once it had been a handsome hedge knight in need of a wife, then a wealthy travelling merchant in need of a gifted seamstress, and last a decadently rich Pentoshi woman, whose handmaiden had died on the passage over to King’s Landing. However, it wasn’t solely his lowborn flings that developed a habit of disappearing whenever they got too close to him.

Margaery Tyrell besieged him since the day she had stepped from her carriage, keeping any other suitable ladies in waiting at bay ever since. Rivals that wouldn’t quit the field willingly got convinced otherwise. The Tyrells paid them and their families off or found them suitors, their fathers didn’t dare to refuse; whilst the really stubborn girls learned their lessons the hard way – leaving court in disgrace.

Or at least that had been the case before Sansa Stark had come to court, who had proven swiftly, she was on a par with the Rose of Highgarden. _If not superior._ The Hand’s daughter was not only younger, but also more beautiful and sincere. _And no scheming bitch._ It was hence no surprise, the pretty redhead caught many men’s eyes – including Gendry’s. Her ability to outsmart and withstand Margaery impressed him till this day. Yet, there was one thing the northern beauty had in common with her rival from the Reach – Sansa Stark was in love with Gendry’s crown and titles, far more than with the man behind it all.

Still, her presence made it a lot easier for him to endure Margaery’s importunity, as the strong-willed northerner embodied a reasonable alternative to the power-hungry Tyrell. _At last._ Gendry knew, he would probably never love Sansa or she ever love him. But they respected one another and he considered her as loyal and trustworthy as her father. _Which was far more than he had hoped for before her arrival._ When his only option had been to eventually re-enact his parents’ marriage of misery in an even more hateful way with Margaery. _Until either killed the other._

Therefore, Gendry prepared himself mentally to ask for Sansa’s hand after the next tourney – _before she quit the field as well_ – and thus Myrcella’s threat failed to make him reconsider his position on Trystane. It merely kept him from giving her another big brother speech, how she at fifteen were still too young to be courted. Which certainly would have made Myrcella point out again, how all the noble houses had thrown their daughters at him ever since he had turned fourteen. To which he then would have responded, that his case were different since he was heir to the throne. Only Myrcella would have called that argument bullshit and would have reminded him that she would be a grown woman before the end of the year – and hence no longer in need of his protection. A fact, Gendry would have preferred to ignore for the rest of his life. _She was his baby sister, and always would be!_

Admittedly, the moment when Myrcella’s giggly friends had of a sudden become interesting for the grown men at court had somehow escaped Gendry’s notice. But he had no problem with that. _As long as those men stayed away from his sister._ And that applied to none more than his own friends. _End of story._

Though, of course it was not. Gendry continued growling and scowling at Trystane, to keep the Dornish prince as far away from Myrcella as possible. Until twelve days later, the tables turned abruptly in favour of his sister, when _she_ walked into his life. _The gods truly had a morbid sense of humour._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY I WRITE THIS STORY?
> 
> Because every love story has two sides ;)
> 
> WHO IS ALY?
> 
> As somewhere in the notes and comments under "That's Not Me" mentioned, I don't like inventing characters when writing fanfiction. But I thought at age 21, being surrounded by countless pretty and witty highborn and lowborn girls all his life, it would be unrealistic, if a handsome and straight guy like Gendry never even had a crush on any of them. That's why I already in "That's Not Me" hinted, that Gendry at some point had a girlfriend named Aly.
> 
> Their relationship/backstory I made up, but not the character. In canon she is a serving girl at the Peach in Stoney Sept, and one of the other women there teases Gendry there that Alyce could take his virginity. So, in my story she did. 
> 
> And even though, Gendry here in the prologue says that Aly was made to join the silent sisters, does not necessarily mean that's true. Maybe Cersei faked that, paid her father to tell him that. 
> 
> Or maybe it is true and Aly joined the silent sisters, but perhaps not forever. Maybe she one day decided the life of a silent sister is nothing for her and she ends up as at the Peach eventually in this story as well. Since, who of those highborns in the capital should ever find out? Working at a brothel in the countryside of the riverlands practically zeroes the chances for Gendry to cross her path again, if Cersei had threatened her to stay away from him.


	2. The Arrival & The Vaults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Renly's nameday. The day Arya Stark arrives at court and right away starts stirring up Gendry's life. He interrupts her little exploring trip in the vault with the dragon skulls, and offers to escort her back to the Tower of the Hand, thinking she got lost. But Arya turns out a tough nut to crack for him, and she has no intention to hear her mother's chiding so soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the counterpart to chapter 1 ("The Arrival") and chapter 2 ("The Vaults") in "That's Not Me" (Part 1 of the series "What If ... He Was A Prince").

Of course, Gendry had heard of Winterfell’s fierce young she-wolf. _Who hadn’t?_ Arya Stark’s reputation had preceded her to court, even afore her father and sister had arrived with their household. Thus, the only question had been, what of the rumours was true about the awing northern lady? _That allegedly no man dared to look at, or at least not while her feral beast of a companion was around._ Most of the nonsense the gossipmongers said about her, they had already said about Sansa. Who then had disabused them all, as she had turned out the perfect lady-in-waiting – more beautiful and better-mannered than anyone else in the Red Keep besides Myrcella. _So, how much worse could her sister actually be?_ Gendry shrugged off the cries of the naysayers, when the news of the pending arrival of Lady Stark and her younger daughter spread at the royal palace.

However, Lord Stark and Sansa’s slight anxiety prior their arrival hinted to Gendry, that perhaps in Arya Stark’s case not all the rumours were exaggerated or false. Since when he asked the stern northern lord casually, if he looked forward to welcome his wife and second daughter to court, Eddard Stark got surprisingly forthcoming for once. “Cat should certainly enjoy living in the capital, she’s been stuck in the North for far too long now anyway. Though, I’m not so sure, if this’s the right place for our Arya, to be frank.” he let on then. Whereas Margaery _kindly_ spoilt the beans to Gendry, how Sansa downright dreaded her sibling’s arrival; as she apparently worried, her wild little sister could embarrass her at court. And only his promise that he wouldn’t allow anyone to humiliate her or her family, seemed to appease the younger court lady somewhat.

Nevertheless, when Gendry then heard, Lady Catelyn and her notorious younger daughter had lastly arrived in the capital, he still proceeded on the assumption that he would meet Arya Stark sometime during the festivities for his uncle’s nameday in the evening that day – all proper and in public, like he had met every other eligible lady-in-waiting so far. Before then of a sudden a Stark guard burst into the small council meeting in the early afternoon. “My lords, I beg your forgiveness, but it seems, the Lady Arya’s gone missing.” the man stated sheepishly, causing everyone in the room to blink at him in disbelief.  
Apart from Lord Stark, who merely sighed and shook his head, “Alright, Alyn, I’m coming.” he addressed his household guard and then his fellow council members, “Apologies, my lords, but I fear we’ve to postpone this meeting till the morrow.”  
“Of course, my lord. Your daughter’s wellbeing is of utmost importance.” Varys assured in his usual purring voice.  
“Thank you for your understanding, my lords.” the Hand retorted, afore he followed his man through the door.  
“_Of course, Lord Stark,_ your daughter’s far more important than pirates raiding our ships and shores.” Littlefinger called after him, making no efforts to conceal his mocking tone. Whilst Gendry and Renly exchanged a glance, before they both let out the guffaws they had been holding back until then.  
“Seems like someone’s really keen on meeting you, huh?” Renly teased chuckling, as they left the council chamber themselves.

Yet, unlike his uncle, Gendry went straight to the Tower of the Hand, to offer his help in retrieving the straying she-wolf. It was what both honour and respect commanded, given Eddard Stark’s position in the realm. _Or the fact that before long, he intended to ask the man for his daughter’s hand._ And it certainly was what Sansa expected, after his promise to her. Still, Gendry wouldn’t have been surprised, if he had found the younger Stark daughter safe and sound and neatly dressed waiting for him at the tower then; for somehow it all sounded quite like a typical ploy of a house trying to draw his attention to their unwed daughters.

Only, in this case it wasn’t. _Unless, it was an extremely well played one._ For Gendry walked right in on an argument between Lord and Lady Stark. “Now tell her again, she’s a proper lady that needn’t to change.” an angry female voice challenged behind the closed door of the Hand’s private dining room, before Alyn’s announcing of the royal visitor interrupted them. Causing Catelyn Tully to change her bearing instantly, “Your Grace,” the comely woman curtsied to perfection at Gendry’s entering, “I am so deeply sorry and ashamed to bother you with our troubles, before we even got officially introduced at court.”  
“Please, don’t be, Lady Stark. There’s absolutely no shame in getting lost in the Red Keep, too many hallways here look just the same." Gendry placated, to ease the woman’s apparent embarrassment, “Which is why I’d like to offer you and your husband my assistance and my men, to recompense for the inconvenience my family’s home has caused you and your daughter.”  
“We thank you for your generous offer, Your Grace, but I think we’ll manage on our own in this case.” Ned Stark unsurprisingly declined, “I’m sure, Arya just went to see how her steed’s faring in the stables and forgot the time somewhere on the way.”

Hence certain, the matter was over and done for him, Gendry headed to his own quarters afterwards. To get some rest, before it was time to meet with Renly and the others for their private nameday feast prior the official one. Though, he had barely slipped into his ceremonial garments, once a Stark messenger at his doors asked for his assistance in search of Lady Arya after all; since the Hand now apparently believed, his daughter could have gone to find the dragon skulls – all on her own. _Bloody northerners and their damn pride._ Gendry shook his head and changed chuckling back into his casual attire, to task three of his men to check the lower dungeons and the entrance to the tunnels, while he headed down to the vault with the dragon skulls himself.

Where Balerion’s furious hisses and growls resounded from the walls, before he had even set both his feet into the dimly lit room. _Who was the old fool squabbling now with?_ Gendry rolled his eyes and was about to come to his friend’s aid, when the capricious tomcat darted around the corner. With _her_ right behind, causing Gendry to stop in his track. _Was that— could that be Arya Stark?_ He blinked stunned at the short figure at the other end of the vault that had now frozen in her step as well. Because of him, Gendry believed for a moment and wanted to approach her. Before realising, _she hadn’t._ Her eyes were fixed on the massive skull in whose shadow he stood. _It had to be her._ He watched the petite woman in her oversized grey shirt and ill-fitting breeches draw closer – seemingly amazed at the enormous dragon remains. Whereas his own feet then suddenly developed a mind of their own, causing him to step fully behind the skull, to get a better view at her through its gullet.

“The Black Dread.” she muttered to herself, reaching awestruck for the ancient bones. However, when Balerion decided to draw her attention back to himself, leaping onto the dragon’s jawline in front of her, she snatched the tom speedier than Gendry thought possible. Placing a swift kiss onto his head, she let go again, before the animal even knew what had happened to him. _Seven hells!_ Gendry gaped dumbfounded at the northern tomboy. _If anyone else had tried that, that furred bastard would’ve clawed their faces off._

Which she seemed to understand, “No need to sulk now, old tom. You were most definitively one of my toughest adversaries and it’s a real pleasure to make your acquaintance… and you’re probably the only southerner worth meeting in this keep.” she tried to butter the feisty feline up, who had retreated into his namesake’s skull now, to scowl and hiss at the brazen northerner from a safer distance. Making Gendry inwardly laugh at him, _Serves you right, you old grump._ The while she went on, “Though, before the two of us can become the best of friends here, you, my dauntless warrior, will need a befitting name to go by. And happens, I know just the perfect one for you, you little black dread—”  
At which Gendry then no longer could keep quiet, “Funny, I’d thought exactly the same.” he remarked chuckling from his hideout.

_“What the fuck?”_ she blurted unsurprisingly startled, as he stepped around the skull. _An openly swearing lady-in-waiting, nice._ “You think it funny, hiding here and scaring people passing by?” she scolded outraged.  
Causing Gendry to chuckle once more, “That would sound fun, if there were actually any passers-by down here.” He cleared his throat, “No, I meant, we chose the same name for him, my lady.” he nodded at Balerion, now purring around his legs. To show the cocky lass where his loyalties lay, should she decide to play nasty tricks on Gendry, too. _Good boy._  
“My lady?” she narrowed her eyes warily, “You know who I am?”  
“Aye, Lady Arya, and I’m here to escort you out of these vaults—” Gendry bowed to her to introduce himself.  
Only then she snapped, “Yeah? And how exactly did you know where to find me?” She took a step to the right. _Was she about to run from him?_  
“Well, about two hours ago, your lady mother noticed, you’ve gone missing. And once nobody could find you, your father suggested, you might have gone exploring, trying to find these bones… So here I am—” he tried to introduce himself once more.

But the unconventional northerner just wouldn’t let him. “Thank you, but there’s no need for that. I know the way.” she claimed rather confident.  
Making Gendry fold his arms in front of his chest, to not snort with laughter when he arched his brows at her, “No offence, my lady. But you look—”  
_“I look what?”_ she demanded vexed. _Cute, when angry._  
“Well, lost.” he still fought the urge to burst into laughter.  
“Well,” she parroted him, “I’m not.” folding her arms, too.  
“Perfect, then maybe my lady could lead the way?” he taunted her amused.  


“My lady could.” she huffed and stomped to the door leading further down into the vaults. _Huh!_  
“My lady, that’s not the way out.” he told her smugly, certain she would need to admit she was lost now.  
Only, she spun around no less smug, “Who said anything about the way out? I’m in no hurry to hear my mother’s dressing-down and far from done exploring.” _Seven hells._  
“But, Lady Arya, what if they send someone else down here and find us both gone? What should they think?” he tried to remind her of her status, as he followed her to the door.  
Something, she apparently couldn’t care less about, “I agree, you should definitively stay here. Since, if anything happens to me and they find you gone from your post, it wouldn’t look good. _For you._” she challenged and opened the door bold as brass. _What the fuck?_ Gendry slammed it baffled shut. Pissing her really off then. “How dare you?” she hissed and scowled at him, as if she wanted to rip his throat out. _Bloody hells._

“Forgive me, my lady, but I can’t let you descend any further. Your family’s worried sick and I’m pretty sure, you’re supposed to get dressed for the festivities soon.” Gendry tried to appease her, yet blocked the door with his arm now. _Just in case._  
“No, they’re not. My father knows, I can handle myself.” she snarled, far from appeased. _Seriously?_  
“But I don’t serve your father, Lady Arya.” he retorted, slowly losing his patience with her.  
“And who do you serve then?” she hissed. _How could someone so petite turn out such a pain in the neck?_  
“The crown prince.” he lied, scowling back at her. _She had it coming._  
“Then you’ve nothing to worry.” she snorted, catching him off his guard, “Your master’s too busy choosing his bride tonight, he wouldn’t even know I was there, if I actually attended.”  
“On that matter you evidently know more than I do.” Gendry hissed somewhat fretted, “But if I were you, I wouldn’t be so quick at calling the crown prince an idiot, my lady.”

“Well, _forgive me,_ but he must be one. He tasked _you_ to get me, and you completely suck at it. And I don’t mean because I refuse to follow you out here.” she huffed annoyed, “If I was anything like my sister, you would’ve scared me to death with all your lurking in the shadows like a thief.”  
Causing him to chuckle again, “I didn’t mean to frighten you—”  
_“You didn’t!”_ she hissed, “I said you would’ve, if I was like my sister.”  
“Of course, Lady Arya, forgive me for _almost_ scaring you.” Gendry laughed, making her clench her fists and look at him as if she were to explode like a jar of old wildfire any moment now. _She was damn cute, when mad._

“I didn’t mean to hide in the shadows, believe me. I just wasn’t quite sure, you were who I was looking for—” Gendry tried to placate once more.  
“_Oh, come on…_ even you must’ve heard, the bad-mannered Arya Stark’s brought to court, to be tamed and chained.” she snorted dismissively.  
“Well, hearing something and seeing it for oneself is two different things entirely, my lady.” he retorted amused.  
“_Well,_ apologies, for my outrageous appearance.” she mocked, yet fiddled with her loosened braid as if she suddenly felt insecure. _She was pretty, no matter her tomboy attire._  
“No need to apologise.” Gendry chuckled and teased, “I just wonder, how am I to explain the state you’re in… you know, without losing my head, once I return you to your lord father and lady mother?”  
“No need to fear for your head.” she snorted all cocky again, “They’re well aware, how I look when I chase cats.” _Strange pastimes… explaining the speed and lack of fear, though._

“So, it wasn’t this Balerion that lured you here?” Gendry nodded amused at the giant skull behind them.  
“Nope.” she chuckled. _So, she could laugh._  
“Well, in that case, your lady mother should count herself lucky. If you’d chased some of the other cats here, we’d be searching Flea Bottom for you all night.” _She was beautiful—_  
“There’s a passage to Flea Bottom down here?” her eyes flashed with excitement. _What? Oh, no, shit…_  
Realising, he had given her all the wrong ideas, Gendry tried to perform damage control, “No. No, Lady Arya—” _Damnit, he had nearly had her._  
“Bloody amazing.” she grinned delighted.  
“No, not bloody amazing.” he pleaded with her, “My lady, your mother’s waiting. So, _please,_ let me escort you to the Tower of the Hand now.”

“Out of question.” she proclaimed, _like the bloody pain the neck, she was._  
_“Why?”_ he inquired, running out of ideas and time.  
And she fully enjoyed it, telling him, “I don’t follow strangers around in dark vaults.” _You bet, she did! If she felt like it._  
“But how else are we to resolve our dilemma here, then? When I’m expected to take you back to your lord father and lady mother, like _now?_ And given your sire’s station, I don’t see a chance for you to skip tonight’s feast anyway—”  
“Sure, there is… all I need to do, is walk through this door.” she stated unyielding. _Seven hells. Anyone calling him stubborn obviously never met her._  
“And all I need to do, is lock you up in here and get your lord father.” he nodded at the set of keys hanging by the door, deciding not to leave them there much longer.

“A race, then.” she burst out of a sudden, dumbfounding him.  
_“What?”_  
“Let’s see, whose way out here’s faster.” she suggested exited. _Huh?_  
“Mine.” Gendry growled wary, telling her, “I lived here my entire life, I think I’d know, my lady.”  
But she challenged unimpressed, “I’ll prove you wrong. Come on, you wouldn’t’ve to explain anything about my _state_ then…” _Was she fucking serious?_ Gendry studied her for a moment, unsure what to make of this now.  
Before he decided to play along, “But I want your word, you return straightaway to the Hand’s Tower—”  
“I swear.” _Just like that?_  
“No detours,” he still wasn’t convinced, “and no more exploring today—”  
“Promised.” she growled impatient. _Was she actually serious about this?_  
“And you won’t get lost on the way?” he still feared, she meant to trick him in any sort.  
“I never do.” _She really meant it, didn’t she?_

Giving him an idea then, “Fine.” he smirked gleeful, “But if I win, you’ll attend the feast tonight, showing up in time, looking all proper and ladylike. And you'll stay as long as the crown prince does—” _She so had it coming._  
“Boring.” she rolled her eyes. _So damn bloody coming._  
“Do you accept?” Gendry challenged, suddenly looking forward to the feast.  
“But if I win, _you_ personally show me that passageway to Flea Bottom.” she demanded. _Caught you!_  
“Deal.” he laughed and reached out his hand for her to shake. And she did, grinning just as certain of victory as him. _She really was beautiful._ “Alright then, I give you a head start… off you go!”  
“Do I look like I need one?” she tried to sound outraged. _But wasn’t, at all._  
“You’ll regret it.” Gendry winked at her and ran. Now certain, she would keep up her end of the bargain.

And as expected, he got to the Tower of the Hand first. Nevertheless, he didn’t have to wait long until she came darting across the yard, right into the arms of one of the Stark guards. From where she quickly wriggled free again, to look around, smirking all confident. It was truly priceless, seeing her smug grin freeze in her face once her eyes landed on him, standing in a door frame. _Serves you right, smart-arse._ “Enjoy the feast, my lady!” Gendry laughed and bowed to her. Afore he turned around, to finally get back to his quarters to wash and change for the festivities a second time. Yet, smiled and chuckled to himself all the way there.


	3. The Nameday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Renly's nameday festivities. The first part, the one with the secret nameday gift, starts a little late - thanks to Arya delaying Gendry a bit. But it still is a merry event. Though, the longer it goes, the more Arya seems to be messing with Gendry's head. So much even, his brother gets worried. And it doesn't get much better at the nameday feast in the Red Keep. When Gendry enters the Great Hall, Arya is nowhere to be seen, and he can't go look for her. He first needs to get his official tasks done, and quick. Before Arya walks into the hall to see him - ruining his plan to see her face, when she realises who he really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the counterpart to chapter 3 ("The Nameday") in "That's Not Me" (Part 1 of the series "What If ... He Was A Prince").
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Well, I can tell you this chapter includes some paragraphs, that really annoyed the hell out of me. Especially two certain ones. When I first wrote this chapter, I took me 3 days to get them to a point where I deemed them ready to show them to you. Now I have I re-edited this chapter already twice since I published it first, and I'm still not quite happy with some paragraphs, but at least they are better now than in my original version.
> 
> Anyway, the main purpose of this chapter was to give you readers a little more insight into what court life means for Gendry, and who/what he has to deal with there. But I can already say, characters like Robert, Cersei, Catelyn, Eddard, Margaery and Sansa will play only very small parts in the coming chapters. I want to focus mainly on Arya and Gendry, as I already did in "That's Not Me".

When Gendry eventually arrived at the stables, the others were long waiting. “There he comes!” Lucas Blackwood called merry upon seeing him crossing the yard.  
“About time.” Alyn Estermont snorted impatiently.  
“Is this a way to treat your aged and feeble uncle on his nameday? Letting me rot with this ugly lot here?” Renly greeted his nephew and put him playfully in a headlock to ruffle his hair, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not getting any younger.”  
“Alright, alright, I get it. I’m late.” Gendry wrestled himself free, “Apologies to all of you.”  
“Late?” Arstan Selmy pretended to be outraged, “Whilst we waited here for his royal arseness, winter came and went, deary.”  
“And you had nothing else to warm yourselves but my Arbor gold?” Gendry taunted, pointing at the three empty wineskins lying in a corner near the stable door. “Must’ve been awful.”  
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t’ve minded some big-bosomed wenches for additional warm-keeping.” Arstan guffawed and patted him on the back, “But we managed. No need to worry, lad.”  
“So, what took you so long?” Ned Dayne asked, knowing he wouldn’t just let them wait for almost an hour without cause.

“Was it Lord or Lady Stark that needed your hand-holding till the little wolf was back in her cage?” Renly mocked, causing the rest of the men to snort with laughter. _Of course, they’d all heard it by now._  
“Neither, believe it or not.” Gendry rolled his eyes.  
“Then where the hells were you?” Alyn asked, cocking his brow.  
“Well, what can I say?” Gendry tried not to grin at the thought of _her._ “There was this cocky little smart-arse pestering my good old Balerion, so I needed to deal with them first.” he retorted vaguely, knowing he couldn’t tell his half-drunk friends, he had met Arya Stark already. _Still less, how and where._ At best, it would have meant risking, one of them spoiled his little revenge on her. _And at its worst, yet another name on the list of lives ruined because of him…_ should Margaery and her cousins ever find out, he and the new lady-in-waiting had been alone in the vaults together.

“I hope, you gave the bugger a good beating.” Alyn growled, “I hate those bastards, who only take on weaker ones.”  
“I for sure taught the big-mouth a lesson they won’t forget.” Gendry chuckled, “But now let’s go, before our whiner here goes toes up—”  
“Not gonna happen!” Renly countered determined, “Not afore I saw your so-called _perfect gift_ for me that I truly waited long enough for now.”  
“Oh, silly old man, you’re gonna have to wait a little longer.” Ned taunted knowingly.  
“First, you need to rack yourself a bit.” Trystane added, who had remained quiet so far since Gendry’s arrival.  
“Aye, something you’ve never done before in your life.” Arstan teased on.  
“Oh, well, in that case… great knowing you all, but I prefer going toes up now.” Renly jested laughing.  
“Too late for that now.” they grabbed and blindfolded him, so Arstan and Alyn could drag him towards the gates.  
“Go on, walk, old man.” Gendry taunted from behind.

Thus, by the time they finally had him down by the harbour, Renly was pissed as hells and close to lashing out at them. But he still wasn’t quite at the finish line. Blindfolded as he was, they manoeuvred him into a boat and made him row them all out to Storm’s End’s new flagship, which meanwhile had dropped anchor in the bay. There, they lastly tied him to a rope, so its crew could hoist him up. Whilst the rest of them climbed aboard to join the stock-still stormlanders by the well-laid tables on the main deck. “Now you’re done, old man.” Gendry patted his fretted uncle’s back and removed the blindfold, shouting, “Hip, hip!”  
”Hooray!” everyone else aboard answered, before the Lord of Storm’s End even fully understood what happened.  
“You bloody bastards!” Renly roared upon regaining his wits, “I thought you made me row around in circles all night.” before he hugged both his nephews at once and then went on to greet his vassals aboard, starting with Brienne.

They had arranged a feast on deck that almost rivalled the one being prepared in the Red Keep, apart of course from the fairly shorter guest list. Which was the main reason, why Gendry would have preferred to remain aboard all night. He would have needed only a handful more people there, and it would have been a perfect feast in his opinion. The dishes on deck undoubtedly agreed more with him, as Hot Pie and Lommy had closed their tavern for half a week to prepare it all.

It was a perfect evening in the best possible company, where no one had to pretend, they were more or less than they actually were. Amongst these men and women, even Gendry could be just himself. _Not the future king, or prince. Not the spitting image of young Robert. Not Cersei’s son, or Tywin’s grandson. Just Gendry._ And usually, their company made him forget his responsibilities and worries like nothing else besides his work at Mott’s shop. Yet, somehow the more time passed this night, the less he felt like drinking and making merry with them. His glance seemed drawn more and more often to the meanwhile brightly illuminated Red Keep towering above them on Aegon’s Hill.

Until eventually Edric found him completely lost in thoughts at the railing of the quarterdeck, as he stared at the visible parts of the Tower of the Hand. “What’s going on up there?” his brother asked, stepping next to him.  
“Arya Stark.” Gendry replied absent-minded.  
“And suddenly your entirely inappropriate brooding here makes sense.” Edric chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder, “So, now even our honourable new Hand turned out an opportunist? Pity, I’d hoped, he were different—”  
“No, it’s not him.” Gendry replied, his eyes still fixed on the keep, “But his wife might be, or at least it looks like, it were mainly her idea to bring their daughters here.”  
“Honestly, on this matter I’ll never envy you.” Edric sighed sympathetically, “So, the little sister now also digs her claws into you?”  
“Rather the opposite, actually.” Gendry chuckled and finally turned to face his younger brother.  
“_Oh, that’s cunning!_ Having one of them hover over you, while the other gives you the cold shoulder? Well played, Lady Stark, well played.” Edric remarked amused, “And let me guess, she-wolf number two didn’t fall from the ugly tree, either?”  
“Nope.” Gendry felt the corners of his mouth pulling upwards.  
“As comely as her sister?” Edric questioned curiously.  
“If not prettier…” Gendry could no longer hide the smile, his recollection of _her_ conjured.

“Seven hells, you like this one!” his brother concluded bewildered and amused at the same. _Apparently he did. Somehow._ For a moment, Gendry wanted to deny it, yet his smile only grew at the realisation.  
“I might.” he admitted quietly, “But she only just arrived today, so it’s probably nothing—” he tried to relativise it, for both Ed and himself. _He was disappointed before._  
“And you already met her?” Edric asked unbelieving.  
“Not officially.”  
“Meaning?” his brother cocked his brows, getting really curious now.  
“She ran off this afternoon—”  
“Sounds promising.” Edric snorted, close to bursting into laughter.  
“Well, her mother thought she’d run off. But Lord Stark suspected, she might’ve gone looking for the skulls—”  
“And you heard of a damsel in distress and hurried to her rescue?” Edric taunted chuckling, “Really sly, these Stark women. Margaery better watches out now, huh?”  
_“They are.”_ Gendry thought of the feisty girl in the vault.

“Well, I guess, you had to walk into one of those honey traps eventually.” Edric clapped him on the shoulder, letting his hand rest there afterwards, “And as long as it isn’t a Tyrell’s—”  
“_But that’s just it!_ With _her_ it’s no ploy.” Gendry countered, yet his brother’s face spoke volumes. “She didn’t even know who I was, mistook me for a manservant—”  
“Are you sure?” Edric questioned warily.  
“Aye, no woman would speak to me the way she did. She didn't know. Most likely still doesn't. She was just minding her own business, explored the keep for her own delight and saw me as the killjoy that ruined her little adventure… Ed, you should have seen her! Fooling around with Balerion, as if he were some cuddly doll. Not even Olenna Tyrell would want that old grump’s claws near her granddaughters’ faces. Yet, _she_ didn’t care. She was fearless. She’s… _different._”  
“Oh, boy.” Edric still wasn’t convinced, “I really hope, you’re right. For your own sake.”  
“Well, thanks for all that faith in me, brother.” Gendry elbowed him, “Since I hadn’t learned anything from having Margaery breathe down my neck for nigh seven years now, huh?”  
“The question is, have you learnt enough?” Edric countered, grabbing him playfully by the neck.  
“Learned what?” Ned stepped next to them and mocked, “For keeping track of time, it’s obviously not.” _Fuck._

When they had finally managed to get Renly back to the keep, they were a full hour and a half late, and the dancing was already well underway. Led by Joffrey, who looked unsurprisingly all but willing to step aside for his older brother just yet. Whereas, apparently their mother had already retired to her chambers. _Certainly spitting mad at him._ For leaving her alone to deal with his evidently wasted father, who now unashamedly groped the serving wench seated on his lap. _What a surprise?_ When even the king’s sweet young daughter seemed to have abandoned her seat at the dais long ago. _To sulk with her friends in the gardens, no doubt._ As Myrcella obviously followed through with her boycott of dancing – her latest attempt to get to dance more than one diplomatic dance with Trystane Martell again. However, the willful princess wasn’t the only one nowhere to be seen in the Great Hall. _Was she even here?_ Gendry wondered on his way through the room, the while only Tommen asking Sansa for a dance just then, lifted his rapidly soured mood somewhat.

So, after delivering a quick toast in honour of Renly, Gendry called for the dancing to resume and took his seat at the dais, to discretely reason with his sire. Though, predictably that didn’t go as smoothly as he had hoped. “Tell me, son, what made you suddenly fail so miserably in your duties?" the king sniggered as soon as he sat next to him, “A pretty thing with nice tits like these, I hope?” _None of your damn business, old man._  
“How about we discuss my delay and the actual reason behind it in the morning, whilst you and your lady friend retire to your chambers now, _father?_” Gendry countered annoyed.  
“Hells, lad, when will you finally stop being such a prude? You’re my son, for fuck’s sake, act like it!” his sire scoffed unwilling, “Or did your cock already fall off, for lack of using? When I was your age—” _Gods, he was so sick of hearing that crap._  
“You fought a war? Killed Rhaegar? Conquered all of fucking Westeros? But most importantly you’d made _the seven,_ humped some poor wenches from all over the Seven Kingdoms. And even better, you’d already sired two bastards with two of them, in two of seven kingdoms. _Those were the days… I KNOW THE STORY._” Gendry snarled fuming and turned to the servant, “ Little word of advice, my father’s cock might not yet fall off tonight, but I suggest, you see the Grand Maester in the morrow and get treated for whatever he’s treating him nonetheless.” Causing her to wriggle promptly from the king’s lap. _Smart choice._  
“Wait, where’re you going?” his father protested slurring, “Lass, my cock’s fine. _He’s lying._ I’m as healthy as a young stallion.” _In your dreams of bygone times, perhaps._  
“Apologies, Your Grace, but I’ve to get back to work now.” the serving girl claimed sheepish and swiftly collected some empty wine jugs.  
“Aye, and so do I.” Gendry pushed his chair back to get up himself.  
“You fucking spoilsport.” the king huffed indignantly, “Now, I’ve to start from scratch.”   
“Shouldn’t’ve insulted my cock then.” Gendry hissed unapologetically and stepped from the dais, to get his dances with the daughters of the great houses done.

Starting by taking over from Joffrey, midway through his dance with Margaery. First and foremost, to put his bothersome sibling in his place. But also so the Tyrell could pretend, it would incur he disapproval to see her with his younger brother. No matter, that in truth Gendry was even grateful for each time Joffrey fawned over her in some way. In fact, unlike their mother, he even hoped, his chickenshit brother would take Margaery off his back for good. _The sooner the better._ Only now, he needed to appease her for his tardiness and keep her from noticing, how his eyes scanned the hall for someone else, whenever he twirled her away or made her turn her back on him. However, Arya Stark wasn’t there. _Had she perhaps already seen him and bolted?_ Gendry feared, right when his eyes met Catelyn Tully’s.

The proud riverlander seemed to watch him and Lady Margaery like a hawk. _Would that woman allow her daughter to leave their first feast at court early? No, she still had to be here. Somewhere. Probably also in the gardens, maybe even with Myrcella… or some dumb prick, parading her around._ Gendry knew, he needed to be done with his dances afore she returned to the Great Hall. _He wanted to see her face, when it dawned on her._

Therefore, after one and a half dances with Margaery, he originally had intended to ask Sansa next. But she still danced with Tommen, and Gendry didn’t have the heart to snatch her from him. _Not yet, anyway._ Even though, that put him in a quandary, as Sansa undoubtedly would feel disregarded if he skipped her for his third dance as well. _Not to mention that hawk-eyed mother._ Gendry thought when his glance met Lady Catelyn’s once more, giving him an idea.

When the ballad ended, he led Margaery back to her seat and approached Lady Stark, “My lady, would you do me the honour and have this next dance with me? ” _That should well appease them both._  
”With pleasure, Your Grace, the honour’s all mine.” Catelyn Tully assured clearly surprised, yet took his hand without hesitation. Letting him lead the way to the open space between the two rows of tables set up parallel to the long sides of the Great Hall.  
“Thank you, for not calling me impertinent for this, Lady Stark.” Gendry tried to commence some small talk.  
“I’d never think such of you, my prince. Even less when you so kindly came to our aid this afternoon.” she professed. Yet, refused to beat about the bush any longer and added swiftly, “Though, naturally I wonder, should I feel flattered, you asked me for this dance and not my daughter?” _Wait, why singular? Wasn’t she here, after all?_  
“Of course, you should.” Gendry chuckled over the familiar boldness, “After all, you’re the only woman in this hall, who could rival Lady Sansa’s beauty." Before he let on, "But I admit, there’s another reason, why I asked you for this dance and not her. You see, Lady Catelyn, I still recall how insecure I was at fourteen, how much effort it took me then to approach a lady. Hence, I’m sure, Tommen must’ve commanded all his courage to ask your daughter for a dance. And what older brother would I be, if I stole him his lady right away then? Especially, if I could ask the no less comely and equally respected eldest daughter of House Tully instead?”  
“Forgive me, Your Grace, but wasn’t that exactly what you did to your other brother?” she poked around determined. _Definitively her mother._

“My lady,” Gendry locked eyes with her, unwilling to explain himself any further, “I promise, I will dance with Lady Sansa later. I’ll even invite her to a walk in the gardens afterwards, if you allow it.”  
Getting the woman’s eyes to light up more with every of his words, “Of course, Your Grace—”  
“I’d even ask the Lady Arya for a dance, if she were here tonight.” he interrupted swiftly, to find out what he really wanted to know.  
“Oh, but she is, my prince.” Lady Cately told him delighted. _Yes!_ “She’s just in the gardens at the moment, with Ser Loras. But I’m sure, he wouldn’t mind, if you ask her for a dance.” _No, he certainly wouldn’t. But what about her?_  
Gendry felt surprisingly relieved now, and for once smiled genuinely at Catelyn Tully, “So, you won’t hold it against me anymore that I danced with Lady Margaery first tonight?”  
”Your Grace, I’d never dare to hold that against you…” _And how!_  
”Then may I suppose, you and I will part as friends now?” he asked, when the tune ended.  
“Gladly, Your Grace.” the riverlander assured placated, when he led her back to her lord husband.  
“My lady, it was a real pleasure.” he bowed to her and turned to her husband, “And I thank you, Lord Stark, for allowing it. Your wife’s a marvellous dancer, just like your daughter.”

Afterwards, Gendry danced with Margaery’s eldest cousin, so no one could accuse him of favouring House Stark over House Tyrell. Before he lastly approached Sansa. Though, by then Lady Catelyn had naturally told her daughter everything, which unsurprisingly made Sansa beam with joy when he asked her for a dance. “My prince, I wanted to thank you for keeping your word to me.” she purred even afore they started dancing, “Only, now that Arya already caused you trouble before you even met her, I fear, you shouldn’t’ve given me such a promise… I could release you from it, _if_ you want me to?” Sansa looked up at him expectantly. _Right, as if he could take it back now?_  
“Well, we can’t do that, Lady Sansa.” Gendry feigned a chuckle, “Just think, what a lousy king I’d make, if I can’t even keep such a small promise to you?”  
Making her smile happily, “Thank you, my prince, you’ve no idea how much this means to me.” _He got an inkling._  
“My pleasure, but the main point is, your sister returned safely.”

“Yes, of course.” Sansa agreed, before she unburdened her heart to him, “I just wished, she’d stop causing such trouble… and always at the worst possible times. I mean, how could she lose track of time right afore her own debut at court? On the king’s brother’s nameday?” _Maybe, because she knew how dull and fake these affairs were?_  
“Your sister’s still young, and for sure not the first one that needs some time to accustom to court life. Even I wonder at times, if I actually belong here.” Gendry tried to appease her.  
“You’re jesting?” Sansa giggled astonished. _No, not really._  
“My lady, not everyone fits in here as neatly as you do, and that certainly includes me.”  
“Oh, my prince, you’re too kind.” she blushed prettily, “But, please, rest assured, you belong here more than anyone else does.” _She just didn’t see him at all. Didn’t even want to …_ Gendry feigned another smile and thanked her for the reassurance, but kept to small talk for the rest of their dance.

However, as soon as the ballad ended, his mood brightened instantly. _Finally, he’d get to see her. Her reaction. And how she looked now in a gown._ The prospect of that made Gendry smile genuinely at Sansa, when she agreed to go for a stroll in the gardens. And not even Margaery dragging Renly along to join them, could sour his mood again.

He had expected no less of her. He knew, Margaery had seen it coming that he would invite Sansa to the gardens, as soon as she had seen him approach her own cousin first. The Tyrell woman had been long enough at court to know by now, how much he hated dancing. _Especially, if he had no say in it._ And why he only ever danced with women, he was obliged to dance with anyhow. That he knew, asking any other girl for a dance, would only bring her and the rumourmongers to the scene. _Let alone his very own mother._ Therefore, Margaery Tyrell knew all too well, he used any opportunity to escape the festivities in the Great Hall as soon as possible.

Only, tonight she didn’t solely want to keep a close eye on him with her arch-rival, when she followed them to the gardens. Tonight, anyone knew, there was a newly arrived court lady, he and his siblings were expected to greet personally. And as usual, Lady Margaery wanted to be there once he did – to assess his reaction to her potential new rival. Thus, Gendry made sure, he and Sansa stayed now well in front of her and Renly. _No need to let the bitch see, how curious he actually was about this debutant._

But of course Arya Stark had no intentions to make anything easy for him. They strolled for nearly half an hour through two gardens, before they eventually found her in the third, amidst Loras’ extravagantly dressed friends from the Reach. Yet, despite literally everyone there towering over her, she still stuck out from a mile away, even in her surprisingly unadorned greyish dress, as she happily gestured and laughed with them. _Seemingly in her element._ But most of all, she stood completely unsuspecting with her back turned towards him now. _Just you wait, you slippery little weasel._

Gendry could no longer hold back his chuckle, “I presume, that’s our little runaway?”  
“Yes, Your Grace, that’s Arya, I’m afraid.” Sansa sighed clearly worried at the sight. Whilst he tried to focus solely on the older Stark daughter as they approached the merry group.  
“Looks like a proper lady to me, very much like yourself.”  
“Thank you, my prince.” Sansa attempted to muster a smile, yet failed, “But I fear, you wouldn’t say so, if you knew her.” _Don’t bet on that._  
“Maybe. But having met your lady mother now, I fairly doubt, she’d allow your sister to come to court, if she thought, she could cause you any trouble here.”  
“I hope so, my prince.” Sansa remained unconvinced.

“And let’s not forget, when I was that age, I didn’t just run off for an afternoon, I was gone for half a year. What do you think, people thought of me then? I for sure thought, they’d exclude me from succession for it. But looks like I failed a bit on that account, hm?” Gendry tried to cheer her up.  
“Looks like you did.” Sansa giggled and even teased, “Quite miserably even, I daresay.”  
“And how! So, you shouldn’t worry too much about your sister. I’m sure, she’ll turn out just fine.” _If she not already had._  
“I suppose, you’re right.” she finally smiled at him again.  
“Well, then let’s get this over with. Go on, introduce me to this little monster of yours.” Gendry teased, looking forward to finally have his satisfaction now.  
“As you wish, my prince.” Sansa chuckled, “But don’t say afterwards, I hadn’t warned you.”  
“That you did, often and thoroughly.” he assured grinning, before she sped up her pace to give her sister a little advance warning. _There we go …_

However, his heart somehow quickened its pace then too, as he watched Sansa tuck her arm into her sister’s, chirping, “Sister, may I introduce you to Prince Gendry?” Which made the younger and shorter woman change her posture instantly. Gendry could have even sworn, he saw an eye-roll, when her sister made her turn to face him; right afore her eyes darted upwards over his chest to meet his. _Vengeance was truly sweet._

Her smug, disinterested look was blown off her face at once, as her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide in shock. _Caught you, smart-arse._ It took Gendry’s entire mental strength to not burst into laughter then or tell her, how much she had had this coming, but instead greet her as nonchalantly as possible, “Lady Arya, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” _She truly was beautiful._  
“Your Grace.” she stammered, afore she apparently recalled that she was supposed to curtsy as well; only to curtsy an instant too long then. _It was hilarious, and unbelievably cute all at the same._  
“I bid you welcome to court, my lady, and hope you’ll find life here to your liking.” Gendry struggled to keep a straight face, as he fully enjoyed, how desperate she tried not to gape at him.  
Until her scarce whisper in response, “Thank you, Your Grace.” made his gleeful satisfaction give way for a sting of guilt in his chest, then. _Did he go too far?_ he wondered, while Sansa went on to introduce her still baffled sister to his uncle.

But his stolen side-glances at her, once he and Renly joined the others, showed quickly that she wasn’t beaten. _Far from it._ Going by the furious scowls she now cast him, he had merely poked the little wolf. She looked ready to tear him apart right there on the spot. Though, Gendry naturally hoped, she would find a less drastic way to get back at him; even if just for the sake of the unforeseen fun her presence at court now promised him – as long as he managed to keep the Tyrells in check.

As Margaery logically wasted no time to get to the bottom of the allegedly fearless northerner's unforeseen reaction to him. Before she then decided to leave that field to the clearly amused Sansa. Allowing her to pick his brains undisturbed in the meantime, “The little she-wolf turned out quite a pleasant surprise, wouldn’t you agree, Your Grace?” _Gods, he loathed her._  
“Well, not that much of a surprise I’d say, given her sister had long belied all the nonsense folk here say about northerners.” Gendry countered facile.  
Yet, unsurprisingly she refused to let him off the hook so easily, “Yes, of course, my prince.” she feigned a smile and pried on, “Though, I’ve to admit, I didn’t quite expect, she’d rival Sansa’s beauteousness so much. I mean with everyone calling Sansa ‘the northern beauty’, doesn’t it strike you odd, no one ever mentioned her no less stunning baby sister?”  
“But I believe they did, my lady.” Gendry retorted, careful not to sound too smug, “I hear, some northerners call her ‘Lyanna reborn’ and as I understand, Lyanna Stark was a great beauty.”  
“Oh, yes, you’re right, of course… that must have slipped my mind for a moment.” _Hardly._  
“Well, considering my father’s history, I'm probably at an advantage over you there.” Gendry replied to placate her, “But no matter which of the Hand’s daughters should be called ‘_the_ northern beauty’, you’re still ‘the Rose of Highgarden’, our great southern beauty. So, I think there’s no need to hide your own light under the bushel, Lady Margaery.” _Didn’t she see, how desperate she seemed by now?_  
“Your Grace are too kind.” displaying one of her perfect false smiles, Margaery finally gave up. _For now._

Over the years, she had developed a remarkable sense of how far she could push him at a time, without risking the humiliation of him ditching her in front of everyone. Nonetheless, Gendry was now livid enough to turn his full attention unabashedly to the Stark sisters. Whose quarrel seemed to escalate just then, once Sansa pinched the little wolf’s cheeks, which she unsurprisingly wouldn’t have. Pushing her sister’s hands away furious, she hissed a quite unmistakable, “Fuck off, Sansa!”  
“_Arya!_ You did so well tonight, and now this?” her sister responded outraged, “You really _are_ hopeless.” _Not from his point of view._  
“Well, _what_ did you expect?” the younger woman shot back unapologetically, starting a scowling duel at which neither managed to stare the other one down.

So, Gendry called, “My ladies Stark, aren’t you coming with us?” causing both sisters’ heads to whip into his direction. _Whoa!_ Gendry wanted to burst into laughter at the sight. He hadn’t seen the slightest similarities between the two females, until now. For a blink of an eye both women glared at him with the same determined livid fury. _She-wolves, indeed._  
Before Sansa then recalled her manners and swiftly turned back into the well-bred lady that she usually was, “Of course we are, my prince.” she assured evidently abashed. And although, Gendry couldn’t see it at the distance and late hour, he was certain, her cheeks displayed one of her pretty little blushes now. Her younger sibling though, didn’t even bother to change the way she looked at him, she just kept scowling. _So damn cute._  
“Looks like that one really likes you, hm?” Renly taunted laughing once he noticed her glares.  
“Aye, likes me dead.” Gendry snorted, turning to face his uncle.  
“Uh, unimportant side issue, who cares about such?”  
“Just me, apparently.” Gendry growled playfully as the Stark sisters caught up with them. One of them pretending nothing at all had happened, whilst the other silently seethed with anger.

Only, Margaery couldn’t leave it at that, “Lady Arya, are you alright? You’re suddenly so quiet again.” She undoubtedly hoped to provoke her into embarrassing herself and Sansa for good.  
But the little she-wolf refused to do her that favour, “Thanks, Lady Margaery, I’m fine.” she almost snarled, yet kept her composure, “It’s just—”  
“It was a long day for her. After all, she only just arrived.” Sansa came promptly to her aid, showing the southerner that she wouldn’t allow her to go after her sister. No matter their differences.  
“Of course, silly me.” Margaery purred, yet remained unyielding in her displeasure of sharing the future king with two northern beauties now. “Loras, why don’t you take the Lady Arya to that bench over there, so she can rest a bit?” she suggested swiftly and sadly succeeded. Though, Gendry suspected, that was mainly because both Stark sisters thought it best to get some distance between Arya and Margaery.

Wherefore Gendry decided to also play along for a while as well. Letting Margaery and Sansa have their will, he soon after invited both to a stroll to the entertainments in the lower parts of the garden. To find some peace and quiet there, away from his drunken uncle, he claimed.

Since as usual at festivities, Renly felt obliged to break the two women’s constant siege of his nephew. And therefore not only butted into their conversations with obtrusive regularity, but also repetitively foiled the two women’s attempts to separate Gendry from their friends. Only, whereas Margaery normally relied on Loras to distract the Lord of Storm’s End from his self-imposed task, she couldn’t tonight. _Well, that must suck._

Still, Sansa and Margaery’s little mirth over their exclusive stroll didn’t last for long. _He wasn’t suicidal._ As soon as Gendry spotted Tommen and some of the bunch from the earlier feast in the harbour, he promptly suggested to join their group for a while – knowing, his two companions wouldn’t dare to object. And so, Alyn and Arstan picked up where their liege lord had left off. The while the two stormlanders gleefully buttonholed Margaery, Ned assisted Tommen in getting Sansa’s attention; allowing Gendry to excuse himself for a moment to take a piss.

But instead of coming right back afterwards, he used the opportunity to check on the little wolf – to find out how mad she really was. Gendry returned quickly to the bench by the small pond with the water lilies, where they had left her and Loras earlier. And luckily they hadn’t yet wandered off far, as he found them both with Renly now, watching a travelling artist walk bare-footed on shards of glass and glowing embers. _Yes!_ Counting on that his uncle and their friend wouldn’t mind busying themselves for a bit, Gendry stepped swiftly next to her. “I do hope you’re enjoying yourself, Lady Arya, for _I_ intend to stay all night.” he grinned down at her.  
But as expected, she was far from appeased yet, “Technically, _I_ could've left right at the banquet, _for you_ weren’t even there.” she parroted him once more. _She was a riot when she did so._  
“But you didn’t.” he taunted chuckling, “And now you’re stuck with me, _all night…_”  
“And there you’re wrong.” she snapped at him, “I had a deal with your manservant, not _you,_ Your Grace. And since _he_ evidently doesn’t exist, our deal doesn’t either. Thus, I can walk off this feast whenever I like—” _He liked, she had a ready tongue._  
“Then why haven’t you, yet?” he locked eyes with her now, “Might it be, you actually like it here?” _She truly was gorgeous._  
However, afore she could retort anything, they both heard Margaery calling from behind him, “My prince, there you are…” _For fuck’s sake._

“Lady Margaery,” Gendry turned halfway around, facing both ladies then. _Couldn't that woman just leave him be? Just for once, for half an hour?_ But Margaery was Margaery, determined not to let yet another woman slip past her guard.  
“_Oh!_ The Lady Arya’s here, too?” she played dumb, “I didn’t foresee that. I thought you were with my brother?” Causing Gendry to realise of a sudden that Loras and Renly had wandered down the garden path to the contortionist without them. _Well, thanks for nothing, uncle._  
“Yes, I was, Lady Margaery…” Arya apparently hadn’t noticed either and seemed embarrassed over it, yet didn’t lose her wits, as she retorted boldly, “But right now I’m actually looking for my sister. You don’t happen to know where I could find her? For his grace here unfortunately doesn’t.” She even tried to sound as innocent as the Tyrell woman had just a moment ago, yet failed miserably at it. Which made Margaery’s slight perplexed expression then even more priceless. _Well done, little one._  
“Sadly not, darling Arya. Last I’d seen her, she seemed to be heading back to the Great Hall with Ser Lancel, given I saw correctly.” Margaery regained her poise at once. _Bollocks._  
“Well, in that case, I better get going. My lady, Your Grace.” the she-wolf hissed speedily and was gone before he could even offer his assistance in searching her sibling. _Thanks a lot, you stupid cow!_ Gendry wanted to snarl at Margaery. Yet, only cursed himself inwardly, realising the cunning woman now certainly had smelled the rat. _He really needed to throw her off that scent again. And quick._

But luckily he didn’t have to do so right away. As Ned came to his aid, with Sansa, Tommen and the rest of the group at their heels. “See, Sansa, they’re both perfectly fine.” Ned remarked before they even reached them, “They simply got delayed on their way back. By each other, as it seems.” _Thanks, old friend._  
“I was worried, my lady and my prince.” Sansa claimed, looking even honestly concerned, “You both disappeared so quickly, one right after the other. I feared, something were wrong with the last wine you two had.”  
“Oh, sweet Sansa, we didn’t mean to frighten you. We both just somehow ran into your lovely sister. You actually only missed her by a hair, isn’t that right—?” Margaery purred clearly fretted, yet Gendry only stormed off wordlessly. “Your Grace?” he heard her baffled calling. Though, for once it wasn’t her that had stirred his wrath.

While she and Sansa had resumed battling each other for his attention, Gendry had used their distraction to see if the younger Stark was still around somewhere. And indeed she was. Barely a hundred feet away, she stood with Joffrey now; both their postures speaking volumes. _That despicable little wanker._ Gendry hadn’t even bothered to explain himself to his companions then, as he took his sibling to the task.

“Want to know what you never will, _wolf-cunt?_ Get a proper fuck. At least not by those two sword-swallowers over there…” he heard Joffrey snarl at her, “You didn’t know, did you?” _And you don’t know how dead you are, you vicious brat._  
“How about, I don’t give a damn?” Arya shot back, dumbfounding the idiot. _Didn’t see that coming, hm?_  
“_Of course not._ And why should you, when you already set your eyes on a _far_ bigger fish?” Joffrey sneered then, seeing him rush towards them, “And there he comes, _your dashing hero—_”  
_“Leave her be!”_ Gendry snarled, stepping in front of her, “You’re _drunk,_ brother.”  
_“No way?”_ Joffrey snorted snidely, pretending he wasn’t afraid of him, “I thought, I was just welcoming our court’s latest northern addition—”  
_“I SAID, LEAVE.”_ Gendry growled threatening.  
“As you wish, _brother._” Joffrey sneered, bowing to him mockingly, before he staggered off. 

Whereas Gendry huffed to calm down a bit, before he turned to her, “Lady Arya, I apologise for—”  
_“I don’t need to be rescued!”_ she exploded, glaring as if she wanted to give him the punch, his craven brother never dared. “I was handling myself _just fine._” she claimed and pushed forcefully past him. _Bloody hells._ Gendry stared speechless after her, as Sansa’s aghast outcry rang in his ears.

“Your Grace, I’m so, so sorry.” the older Stark daughter stammered horrified, approaching him carefully, “I’m sure, she didn’t mean it… it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve let her out of sight—”  
“But nothing of this was your fault, Lady Sansa.” Tommen disagreed, having followed her right behind.  
“I’d even bet, it wasn’t your sister’s fault either.” Ned added once he stepped next to them, whilst Gendry’s glance still remained fixed on _her._ Watching her hurry to the east end of the garden and disappear down the stairs to the small terrace there.  
“Shouldn’t we go after her, make sure, she’s alright?” he asked then, finally facing the others.  
“After what she did?” Sansa asked confused, as if she hadn’t heard a thing Tommen and Ned had said.  
“Your sister has every right to be this upset and more.” Gendry countered, “I heard myself, how vile our brother spoke to her. Saying things, no woman should ever hear. So, yes, Lady Sansa, I think we should go check on her.”

Sansa blinked surprised at hearing her sister wasn’t the one to blame here, before she abashed replied, “Um, I’m deeply grateful for your concern for my sister, Your Grace. But I fear, Arya won’t appreciate it. At least not tonight. She was already so embarrassed after blundering her introduction to you, and now she even yelled at you in front of everyone. I doubt, she’d want to see you right now, or me. She’d only think, we want to rub it all in.”  
“But don’t you think, someone should see, if she’s all right?” Gendry questioned unbelieving and unsatisfied. _She’s your sister, for fuck’s sake._  
“I could get your lady mother or the Hand.” Tommen eagerly offered his assistance.  
“No!” Sansa objected vehemently, “My father shouldn’t hear of this before the waves calmed down a bit.”  
“I agree.” Gendry finally understood her hesitation, “Our brother and father better both be sober when Lord Stark hears of this.”  
“But what else can we do then?” Tommen asked, undoubtedly disappointed that he was of so little help for Sansa.  
“We’ll think of something.” Gendry muttered absent-mindedly. _He needed her to know, he didn’t blame her._ Wanted her to know, he wouldn’t allow anyone to hold this against her.  
“What if I check on her?” Ned offered.  
“Oh, Ned, would you?” Sansa blurted at once, before Gendry even had a chance to decide if he thought that a good idea.  
“With pleasure.” Ned assured smiling, “And if she doesn’t want to talk to me either, we can still get Lord Stark.” _He’d rather go after her himself and have her yell at him all night._  
“Thank you, Ned, I really appreciate it.” Sansa seemed clearly relieved, “Um, maybe tell her about Wylla. That should help you to get through to her.”  
“I’ll try my very best, but I won’t make any promises. So, don’t retire for the night just yet.” Ned winked at them and headed to the terrace.

“Are we sure about this?” Tommen questioned, “After all, he hasn’t even met her yet.”  
“Have a little faith in our friend. Ned’s good at these things.” Gendry placated and suggested, “And in the meanwhile, the two of us should think of something to atone for our brother’s bad behaviour. Any ideas what might rejoice your sister, Lady Sansa?”  
“I’m afraid, there isn’t that much Arya likes, Your Graces.” the northerner sighed frowning, “At Winterfell, she mostly just fooled around together with the wolves and our brothers and— well, I suppose there’s hunting, and apparently she still likes exploring and getting all messy at it a lot. But that’s pretty much it, besides going riding for hours almost every day.” _He bet, there was far more._

Though, for now Gendry had no other option but to pick from the few things Sansa had named. And as tempting as fooling around with the little wolf sounded to him, he knew he shouldn’t even think into that direction. _Unless he wanted to fall into disgrace with House Stark even quicker than the dipshit._ However, hunting didn’t present a much better choice, as he needed Sansa to come along too – or else he could just as well declare here and now, he took a liking to her sister. Thus, the least Gendry could do was to acknowledge Sansa’s principles and respect that the redhead deemed hunting no sport a woman should pursue.

So, he and Tommen agreed quickly to instead invite both Stark sisters to go exploring together on horseback on the morrow. In hope, to return them afterwards without any dirt stains, their exacting lady mother could sniff at. Or at least with no more than on Myrcella’s skirts, who Tommen promised to persuade to tag along as well.

Only, while Sansa and Tommen couldn’t get enough of contriving the details, where they could take Arya over in the nearby crownlands, Gendry soon got distracted by an uneasy feeling. _What took him so long?_ The longer he waited for his friend to return, the more Gendry felt urged to step to the balustrade at the eastern end of the garden, to see if his sudden gut instinct was right. _Please don’t, old friend._

Yet, almost three hours later, after Margaery and the others rejoining them had long ago put an end to Sansa’s and Tommen’s merry planning, Ned Dayne eventually resurfaced from the small seaside terrace. _With her at his side._ All Gendry needed then, was one single glance at them to find his misgiving confirmed. _He knew it!_ While he had felt more and more like losing his mind, barely able to hide where his thoughts had lingered all the time, Ned had fallen under the spell of the little she-wolf as well. _And worse, she maybe under his …_

Thus, once the fireworks had lastly sounded the death knell for the official part of the feast, Gendry escaped swiftly in his well-known manner. Bidding his companions and everyone important he met on his way out of the gardens good night, he excused himself with urgent matters that he needed to see to early the morrow. And like so many times before, when he had taken to his heels at court festivities, his feet didn’t lead him straight to his own apartment but into Ned’s solar first. _He just needed to know._

There, the Lord of Starfall found him waiting upon his own return from the feast roughly an hour later. Seated in the chair across his friend’s desk, Gendry greeted him, “Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself with your wine.” beckoning with the ornamented cup in his hand.  
“Just fair, I had quite a bit of yours tonight.” Ned poured himself some wine as well, whilst taking his seat opposite to his visitor. “To Renly?” the young Dornishman suggested, lifting his cup.  
“Aye, that drunken fool.” Gendry replied quietly, afore he emptied his cup at once. _He’d so never asked for this…_  
“So, why are you here tonight?” Ned inquired somewhat amused, after only taking a sip, “To hear what happened on the terrace, I presume? What she said?”  
“That’s none of my business.”  
“True.” Ned nodded, refilling Gendry’s drinking vessel, “But you’re wondering nonetheless, don’t you?” _Damn right._  
“Nothing good about me, I’m sure.” he retorted sullenly and took another big slug.  
“Actually, she didn’t say anything about you.” Ned clarified chuckling, “There was an eye-roll when I mentioned that you sent me to check on her, but that was pretty much it.” _And why did he find that hard to believe now?_

They both gulped down some more wine in silence, before Gendry eventually asked, “So, will you… you know, court her?”  
_“Will you?”_ Ned retorted, locking eyes with him. _Great, he didn’t even deny it._  
“How should I know? I only just met her!” Gendry growled, dropping his gaze to his cup. _He just wanted to get to know her… spend some more time with her. Away from prying eyes._  
But Ned kept his glance fixed on him, “Come on, who are you trying to fool here? Me or yourself?” the younger knight snorted, “First, you show up an hour late, with a bollocks story about a servant lad to conceal that you already met her—” _What?_  
“I thought, she didn’t talk about me?” Gendry looked up at once, furrowing his brows.  
“She didn’t.” Ned countered chuckling, “Didn’t have to, thickhead, your behaviour tonight was telling enough. You know, all those little smiles to yourself and absent-mindedness aboard. Then your constantly straying eyes back here, whenever Margaery wasn’t looking.” The southerner paused for a moment, shaking his head, before he continued, “I swear, once I saw Arya bolting and your eyes immediately searching her again as soon as Sansa had Margaery distracted, I was about to smack you… afore Joff acting like a particularly dumb cunt got in my way then. So, no offence, but the looks you gave me for the rest of the night were neither subtle nor necessary to notify me about what’s going on.” _Fuck, he really needed to watch out._ “Relax! The others were already too deep in their cups to notice.” Ned appeased, seeing his alarmed expression, “And as for the Tyrells, I’m sure, Joffrey should excuse your newfound interest in she-wolves tonight.” _Hopefully._

“Fine, but how are we to solve _our_ little problem here?” Gendry looked questioning at his friend.  
“I don’t know.” Ned took another sip, seeming more tense of a sudden, “Do you want me to back off?” _Hells, yeah!_ Gendry caught himself thinking and felt appalled at once. _For fuck’s sake, this was Ned. More a brother to him than Joff ever could …_  
“Who’s the thickhead now?” Gendry teased quickly, determined to ease the unnerving tension between them, “You know, I’d never ask such a thing of you.” _He meant it._  
“It were your right, though.” Ned countered quietly, “And I’d understand.” _Undoubtedly._  
“So, you can blame it on me, should your darling wife-to-be turn out a nasty hag one day?” Gendry went on, “Out of question, sunshine.”  
“Um, I’m pretty sure, I prefer to blame that on you no matter what.” the Dornishman jested laughing, but quickly got serious again, “So, you’re basically saying, we should just both befriend her and see what happens?”  
“Pretty much,” Gendry retorted chuckling, “and let’s definitively stick to calling it ‘befriending’.”  
“Sounds far less terrifying, right?” Ned countered amused, “Well, to _befriending_ the she-wolf, then?”  
“And to old friends.” Gendry retorted, before they both emptied their cups at once.

Still, Ned eventually asked, “But what if she chooses to befriend only one of us?”  
“Well, given today’s events, that’s more than likely.” Gendry appeased sighing, “And I rather address her as Lady Dayne, than watching her wither away next to some fuckwit like Hardyng or one of the Freys, the gods forbid.” He tried to convince his friend as much as himself.  
“Are you sure about that?” Ned retorted, “I don’t want to wake up one day and find this— _her_ standing between us.” _Neither did he._  
“Absolutely sure.” Or so he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NAMEDAY GIFT
> 
> Who from court went with Gendry and Renly to the ship:  
1.) Edric Dayne = Gendry’s best friend in this story.  
2.) Trystane Martell = a friend of Gendry, Ned and Renly in this story.  
3.) Lucas Blackwood = mainly a friend of Loras and Renly in this story, who's in his 20s.  
4.) Alyn Estermont = a bannerman of Renly, who's in 20 or 30s.  
5.) Arstan Selmy, a relative of Barristan Selmy and a bannerman of Renly, who's in his 30s or 40s.
> 
> DIPLOMACY AT COURT
> 
> For diplomatic reasons and out of respect, Gendry/Joffrey/Tommen are expected to dance at feasts at least one dance with unmarried daughters of important houses. Houses like the leading houses or loyal allied houses. While Myrcella’s expected to dance at least one dance with bachelors of those important houses – but only should they ask her for a dance. (Stupid patriarchal dancing rules, you know.)
> 
> At the time of this story, the most prominent houses with umarried daughters at court are: Stark and Tyrell (with the Houses Tully and Arryn having no unmarried daughters). While the most prominent houses with bachelors at court are: Tyrell, Martell and Lannister (some more or less distant cousins like Lancel). 
> 
> MYRCELLA AND TRYSTANE
> 
> So, it’s likely sometime in the past weeks/months during those obligatory dances, Trystane and Myrcella realised their feelings for one another. But with nearly everyone in Myrcella’s family disapproving of their relationship (apart from: Tommen, Renly, Shireen, Edric), it’s not easy for Myrcella right now. Even her big brother Gendry - who's usually so reasonable - tries everything to keep Trystane away from her. Hence, he even forbid Trystane to ask for more than the one obligatory dance - to keep the Dornish prince from groping his baby sister. But Myrcella’s no baby anymore and quite headstrong herself, so she decided to go on a dancing strike now - dancing only one dance each with Loras and Trystane, because that's her duty, but otherwise refuses to dance with anyone else - trying to force Gendry to overthink his position. 
> 
> At Renly’s nameday feast, Trystane was at the ship party. Since he and Gendry are still friends or try to be, and because Trystane and Renly are friends, too. So, Trystane also returned late to the feast. And with Loras being busy with Arya, Myrcella used the opportunity and skipped dancing completely this night and instead hid in the gardens with her loyal lady friends, so no other bachelor could ask her for a dance. But not knowing of Gendry’s and Arya’s encounter in the vault, Myrcella’s now probably even madder at Gendry, thinking he would’ve delayed their return deliberately, so Trystane wouldn’t even get the one dance with her.
> 
> GENDRY AND SANSA
> 
> Gendry’s impressed, Sansa manages to outwit Margaery so long, and somehow he’s even grateful for that. Because since she came to court, he no longer has to deal with Margaery alone – which’s mentally absolutely exhausting for him. Even though, he also has to keep Sansa at bay somehow, her presence still makes it easier for him to handle Margaery - they both watch out, that Margaery plays no tricks on him. 
> 
> But also, Gendry has seen glimpses of the real Sansa. Not many, since 99 % of the time she's in her role playing perfect lady, but he has. And the real Sansa, he really likes (as a friend) and would like to see more often. That is also why he lets slip some glimpses of the real Gendry around Sansa - which he never does around Margaery or other ladies. But sadly, Sansa doesn’t want to see the real Gendry. She doesn't want to see there's the crown prince-mask he wears at court (to protect himself) and there's the man who struggles a lot in this role. That's what absolutely frustrates and annoys Gendry about Sansa. She refuses to see, that what she loves about him is only a mask/role. But otherwise, they get along quite well - as friends. Gendry just wishes Sansa wouldn’t play her perfect lady act even in the short moments when there's no Margaery butting in. 
> 
> GENDRY AND MARGAERY 
> 
> It’s not just Gendry who can’t stand Margaery, for not backing off even after more than 6 years. She can’t stand him either, for refusing and favouring other girls (even lowborn flings) over her for so long. But there probably was once a time, at the beginning when she came to court at age 16 (he was 15, then) when they had a bit of a crush on one another – they’re both fairly attractive and charming people. 
> 
> But Cersei knew to prevent a betrothal between them then. She made sure Gendry soon saw Margaery for what she really is. That her nice and charming behaviour is mostly an act, just a role. And that Margaery actually is just as much of a schemer as Cersei herself - who would do anything to become ‘the queen’. Therefore, things went south between them rather quickly and for good.


	4. The Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry feels slightly hungover after Renly's nameday feast. And after recalling some events from the past night, he would prefer to hide from the world for the day. But he can't. He needs to deal with the mess Joffrey had made. And he wants to get rid of the sudden akwardness casting a shadow on his friendship with Ned. And then there is Arya Stark, who he desperately would like to appease. This very day. Since Gendry fears, their ride in the afternoon could be his only chance to do so - without giving away to everyone else that he likes her. But of course she has no intentions to forgive him so soon after he humiliated her so publicly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the counterpart to chapter 4 ("The Ride") in "That's Not Me" (Part 1 of the series "What If ... He Was A Prince").
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> This chapter's main purpose is to introduce some more of Gendry's family life, but mostly his younger siblings and the three siblings' relationship with one another - they still squabble like most siblings do (until all of them reached their twenties), but they love one another deeply. 
> 
> And the reason why I wanted to introduce their relationship here, is because Myrcella and Tommen both have each a reason, why they want Gendry and Arya to fall in love - other than that they want their big brother to finally find some true happiness.
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> ATTENTION! 
> 
> I updated chapter 3 "The Nameday" on 13/11/2019, after I originally published it on 09/11/2019. Meaning, I added the paragraphs with the conversation between Ned Dayne and Gendry after the feast at the end of chapter 3, instead of using them as intro for this chapter now. So, if you haven't yet read their conversation in Ned's solar, you should maybe read them first, before you read this chapter here.

When Gendry woke come morning, it took him a moment to realise that he hadn’t only dreamed the previous day. Before his typical dry mouth and heavy head after too much wine and his sleep-deprived oversensitivity to the sunlight made him smile for once in his life. Because that meant, _she was real._ Laying on his back, he turned his face towards the wide-open balcony doors, in hope to get his eyes to adjust to the morning sun overflowing his bedchamber now. _Arya Stark really happened,_ Gendry concluded, feeling his smile widen into a broad grin.

Afore it dawned on him an instant later, _… and so did all the rest!_ Pissing off his mother in showing up too late, while at the same time pissing Joff off by returning to soon to the keep. Getting his revenge on the little wolf on one hand, but pissing her off in doing so on the other. Margaery getting suspicious and right into his way as usual, pissing him off. Then Joffrey venting his anger on Arya, pissing her off even more; as well as him. Thoughtlessly sending Ned after her, pissing himself off for good. And of course, drinking himself into oblivion in Dayne’s solar, whilst coming up with a plan that now sounded like the introduction of a bad joke… _if not the perfect recipe for absolute disaster._

Recollecting all that, made his head feel a full ton heavier at once and wiped his silly smirk rather quickly off his face. _What the hells had he been thinking last night?_ Gendry grunted as he rolled to the side, away from the still too bright sunlight, and hid under his pillows. Determined to do so for the rest of the day. Or at least until about half an hour later one of his manservants knocked on his door, to remind him, he had wanted to get up before his mother would this morning. _Shit, right._

At that, he crawled out reluctantly from his lousy hideout and dragged himself to the desk in his solar. To draft a message for Lord Stark, in which he notified him about the unpleasant incident between Arya and Joffrey. Whilst assuring the Warden of the North at the same time, how very sorry his entire family were because of it, and that Joffrey would wish to apologise personally after breaking their fast. Concluding the letter with his invitation for both the man’s daughters, to go riding with him and his younger siblings in the afternoon, in order to make amends for their brother’s ill behaviour. _And to hopefully appease her at it._

Before Gendry then gave himself a catlick and got dressed, to task one of the two guards outside his apartment with the delivery of the sealed parchment scroll, whereas he headed to his mother’s solar. _To get it over with, the lioness’ wrath._

The queen was undeniably a hateful and vicious woman, able and willing to bear her grudges for ages, but the proud daughter of House Lannister had never liked to repeat herself – regarding any repetition on her part as absolute disrespect against her station. A fact, Gendry had learned to use to his own advantage early on. Especially when one of her tirades was in coming for him – such as now. And knowing the most likely course of this haranguing, he was in no mood to give Joffrey the satisfaction of witnessing it over breakfast.

For naturally their mother couldn’t care any less that the Hand’s missing daughter had disturbed his carefully planned schedule. Her spies had long told her, Edric Storm was amongst the stormlanders anchored in the harbour and that was all she needed to know to blame everything on Gendry. “If you and that imbecile of an uncle of yours had just stayed in the palace, as both your degrees commanded, none of this would’ve happened.” she argued as expected. Since then Joffrey wouldn’t have needed to be put in his place, wouldn’t have gotten as drunk and never would have insulted Arya Stark in public in the first place. Wherefore, she now saw no reason why she should pour oil on the troubled waters with Eddard Stark; leaving it to Gendry and his father to appease the adamant northerner. _Of course._ While she unsurprisingly felt it incumbent on herself to instruct her second-born for his inevitable call to the man in the most careful way. _As usual._

But Gendry didn’t complain, he was overly fine with each time he needn’t to be the one to talk sense into his bothersome sibling. Hence, he didn’t even wait around for Joffrey to show up in the royal family’s private dining hall. Gendry merely had some fresh juice and fruits there, in hope to alleviate his fluid-depleted mouth, while he filled his younger siblings in about the message he had sent Lord Stark. As he and Ned headed down to the harbour to break their fast with the stormlanders aboard ship, before their vessel set sails for Storm’s End again in the afternoon; then with Loras and Renly and several more of their friends aboard.

Since originally they both had wanted to join them as well. But discovering Trystane’s sudden interest in Myrcella had rapidly changed Gendry’s mind, even before he had found out, his sister didn’t actually mind her Dornish admirer. _So like hells, he’d go anywhere whilst that prick so blatantly ogled at her._ Which then unsurprisingly had led Ned to cancel the trip too. As he apparently feared, his two closest friends would be at each other’s throats within no time otherwise. And why they now had at least wanted to bid their friends a proper farewell.

Thus, over pitching into the leftovers aboard together, courtiers and stormlanders exchanged the capstones of the two feasts the respective others had missed out on. Only somehow that also included Arya Stark, who apparently had made quite an impression on both the Knight of Flowers and the Lord of Storm’s End as well. “But me and Loras weren’t the only ones enjoying the pretty she-wolf’s disarming frankness. I think, I recall her spending quite some time with a hellish handsome Dornishman.” Renly blurted eventually with a wink at Ned. Causing the young knight to colour up to his ears, that even the last hungover fool in their round understood.

“Didn’t you omit quite a bit there, uncle?” Gendry challenged across the table at that, “Like, _why_ that wolf so suddenly preferred his company over yours? After you two plastered idiots so rudely lost sight of her, and how that indirectly led to her lividly hauling Joffrey over the coals in front of everyone?” which promptly aroused guffaw on all the tables on deck, as he had hoped.  
“You mean right before she hauled you over the coals even more livid for interrupting her in that?” his uncle shot back, causing the stormlanders to roar with laughter for good.  
“And suddenly I’m really curious about that little she-wolf of yours.” Edric teased next to Gendry.

“Thanks for earlier.” Ned remarked later ashore on their way back to the keep, when it was only the two of them again.  
“They’re bloody morons when bunched together.” Gendry retorted, suddenly relieved, he wouldn’t have to spend a full moon’s turn in the stormlands with the lot. Because despite his distraction had worked as a whole, some of the men at their table naturally still couldn’t help needling and quizzing Ned about Arya. And the coy Dornishman’s refusal to disclose absolutely anything about his time with her, only made Gendry wonder even more, what had happened between them on the terrace.

Wherefore, now down in the secret tunnels, away from the prying eyes and ears in the city, Gendry only notified the young lord about the invitation he had sent the Stark sisters this morning; instead of inviting him along, as he had originally intended. _Before that bloody terrace had happened._

A call his years-long best friend undoubtedly would have found odd, hadn’t he already known the reason behind it. Sending Ned to check on her, had for sure been lesson enough for Gendry to decide, he wouldn’t again play so foolishly into the Dornishman’s hands with her. At least not without trying to win her affection for himself, first. _Especially, when he had already had it._ Gendry was certain, down in the vaults Arya had liked him. _A tiny little bit._ When she had started laughing and smiling at him. _And he just wanted that again._

Yet, despite Ned evidently wasn’t cheering at the idea of him spending an entire afternoon with her and so soon after last night, he still wished him, “Good luck.” once their paths to their respective quarters were about to part.  
And Gendry was certain, he meant it, “Thanks, old friend.”  
“Though, you might want to keep your smart-arseness in check with her.” Ned then even teased.  
“And what about her smart-arseness?”  
“She’s prettier than you, she gets to be a smart-arse.” Ned mocked smirking. _Agreed._  
“Well, look who switched their loyalties?” Gendry shot back jesting.  
“Again, her face’s prettier than yours.” _Not just her face._ “I mean it, be nice.” Ned got serious, “She’s badly homesick.”  
“I will.” Gendry assured genuinely surprised, “Well, should she turn up—”  
“You think, she’d dare to decline your invitation? Don’t be silly.”  
“If I wouldn’t put that past someone, then her.”  
“But not after last night.”  
“Then where’s your invitation for her?” Gendry raised his brow challenging.

“I’m no fucking crown prince, nitwit.” Ned tried to sound mocking yet failed, “A lordship over a tiny island on the edge of the Seven Kingdoms hardly impresses Catelyn Tully.” _Aye, that woman knew exactly what she wanted._  
“No, probably not.” Gendry retorted, now dead serious himself, “But you’re the _fucking_ man that impressed Arya Stark herself. Who can make her laugh and enjoy herself, even when she’s homesick. So, just send her a damn invitation, you bloody fool.”  
“I don’t know…” Ned sighed unconvinced. _Oh, boy. So daring with a blade and yet so fucking shy around women._  
“_Why?_ Because you’re afraid, sobered up you might not repeat that little miracle from last night? Start small then, invite her to a stroll in the gardens and see what happens. She won’t refuse that, and neither will that hawk of a mother. After all, you’re best friends with a fucking crown prince. And who do you think I want for a Hand, once Tyrion whored himself into an early grave?”  
“Bloody sweet-talker.” Ned shook his head in an attempt to hide his growing grin, “Off you go now!” he rolled his eyes and headed towards his chambers.  
“I mean it.” Gendry called after him.  
“So do I.” Ned snorted, without turning back around.

Leaving Gendry alone with his thoughts. _This was his only chance to appease her._ After this ride, he could provide no excuse to Margaery or his mother or anyone else, why in the gods names he wanted to spend time with Arya Stark. Other than that he was interested in either her or Sansa. _This time had to be different. She couldn’t end up like the others._ He wouldn’t allow it. _Not again._ He just needed to give absolutely everyone the run-around. _Until it was too late._ And he needed to talk to her alone. _But how? How could he talk to her in private?_ Without giving it all away to either of their siblings. _Tom shouldn’t be much of a problem, he’d be too busy making mooneyes at Sansa._ But the redhead was no fool, and neither was Myrcella. _After all, the little lioness had literally prayed for this to happen… and then there was Jaime,_ who their mother for sure had already tasked to safeguard her cubs on this ride. 

It wasn’t like Gendry feared, his uncle would betray his trust and spy on him for the queen. Jaime Lannister knew exactly _who_ his twin was. The problem was rather, she was the shrewder of them two. Cersei could educe information out of him, before the Kingsguard knight even realised, she was doing so. _So, how was he supposed to speak alone with her?_ Gendry pondered over his dilemma, on the way back to his quarters. Where not even Eddard Stark’s sealed reply, assuring both his daughters accepted the invitation, provided much relief now. _He needed to explain himself… or the entire ride was for naught._ So, Gendry kept brooding, all the way through bathing and changing into a fresh riding attire. Until eventually he found himself lying on his bed again, staring at the superb designed golden brocade canopy above, when lastly a flash of genius hit him. _That was it! That’d work. Just had to, for fuck’s sake._

Consequently, he strode quite optimistic to the White Sword Tower, to ask Barristan to be their second escort for the ride. Gendry knew, his uncle liked the cunning old bird. But most of all, the two knights trusted each other completely with the safekeeping of their charges. Just like they trusted Gendry and his siblings, and hence would focus on scanning their surroundings, rather than keeping their eyes fixed on the three of them.

Before Gendry then headed to the stables, to ready his hunting steed; whom he needed in peak form. “I don’t want any of your monkey business now, do you hear me, you moody bastard?” he whispered to the pitch-black mount while he put on the bridles, “We have to impress someone, so don’t you dare embarrass me today.” The spirited stallion had naturally long scented the new arrival in the royal stables, and as usual felt the need to ruffle his feathers – making clear, he considered himself one of the lead stallions there. _Bloody fool._

But admittedly, Gendry couldn’t resist stealing curious glances at the gorgeous dark bay stallion either, once the Starks’ stable boys and one of their household guards readied the sisters’ mounts for the ride. “Looks like the competition strengthened quite a bit, huh?” Gendry teased his own steed, who suddenly realised, he would meet that feisty young northerner now face to face.

Before then also Myrcella and Tommen came to the stables. Tommen seemingly thrilled to the bits, and Myrcella about to put a bridle on him as well. “You idiot do realise, you’re of age with her baby brother?” she huffed annoyed as they led their steeds into the yard, “You’re practically a toddler in her eyes, believe me, because that’s exactly what I see in your stupid friends.”  
“And do you realise, there’s still only _one _single year between us?” Tommen shot back, “Guess, that makes you the toddler queen, huh?”  
“Touché, in my eyes you’re practically twins. Cute little toddler twins.” Gendry couldn't help butting in, even though that made both of them scowl at him furiously. _Yeah, cute little twin cubs, right before their first kill._  
“Well, too bad. Not _everyone’s_ as blind as you, old man.” Myrcella snapped challenging. _For fuck’s sake, did she always have to bring him up now?_  
“We’re not discussing _that_ again.” Gendry growled, trying to stare his defiant sister down. _Or ever again._  
“Oh, no, please do!” Tommen mocked gleefully, “Since, how old’s Trystane again? Isn't he of age with—”  
“A certain redhead coming our way?” Gendry suggested speedily, causing Tommen to whip around startled. “You two can finish your squabble later.” Gendry warned, “This’s about the Starks and making up for Joff’s stupidity. So, be nice and keep in mind, Lady Arya only just arrived and she still might feel a bit out of place here.”  
“We’re not the blockheads, dear brother.” Myrcella snorted, “We can handle a pair of wolves.”  
“Probably better than you.” Tommen added all cocky again. _Gods, he hated when they allied against him._  
“Then stop bragging and prove it.” Gendry hissed and went to receive the Stark sisters. Thanking them both for accepting the invitation and apologising once more for Joffrey’s behaviour. 

Yet, unsurprisingly the little wolf let Sansa do all the talking to him once more. While greeting him only formally, she offered each of his siblings at least a genuine little smile. Before she swiftly turned to her hunting steed. The only one in the yard, she really seemed happy to see – greeting the animal more loving than most people would their own relatives. _What a tough nut to crack…_ But Gendry tried nonetheless.

After helping Sansa onto her docile white gelding, he refrained deliberately from assisting her. He even stopped Tommen from doing so, who mistook his refusal as a prompt to himself, seeing their uncle already aided Myrcella onto her pretty rose-gray mare. Instead, Gendry only complimented, “That’s quite an impressive steed, Lady Arya.” to show her, he acknowledged her riding skills.  
But still she refused to meet his glance, smiling rather at the animal in her response, “Yes, he is.” _Seriously? Was he supposed to compete with a bloody horse now?_  
“How come a woman ride a mount with such a temper, my lady?” Tommen questioned evidently green with envy, from atop his lazy-arse dun gelding.  
_“Because I can, Your Grace.”_ she almost snarled, clearly taking the remark as an insult. _Careful now, Tom._ Yet, as if that hadn’t been answer enough, she led her stallion defiantly away from the step ladder, lifted her skirts and mounted up with absolute ease and grace. Causing not only Tommen’s jaw to drop for a moment. “He was a gift from my father. For my fourteenth nameday.” the little wolf added now from horseback, as though she wanted to rub it some more in on the poor lad. _She clearly had no intentions to make anything easy for him. Or anyone else there._  
“See, no need to worry, Tom.” Gendry chuckled impressed nonetheless, as he mounted up himself.  
“My sister’s horsemanship is known throughout the North, Your Graces.” Sansa tried to smooth things, steeing her steed predictably next to his.  
“Don’t hide your own light under the bushel, Lady Sansa. I hear, you’re an excellent rider yourself.” Gendry played along and led the way to the main gate, as their siblings and the two Kingsguardsmen at the rear followed behind.

Unfortunately though, clopped their mounts’ horseshoes too loud on the cobblestones for Gendry to assess how his siblings fared with the infamous northerner. Forcing him to focus solely on Sansa whilst still within the city walls. And to make the best of that, Gendry decided to ask her opinion on his little plan to appease her sister – at least, as far as he could let her in on it. Still, he couldn’t help stealing some backwards glances at Arya every now and then, to see her face slowly lighted up bit by bit. _Well done, little tykes._

Nevertheless, he felt quite relieved once they finally passed the Gate of the Gods, steering their mounts then westwards over the meadows there. Where the soft ground at last allowed him to pick up some scraps of conversation happening behind him. _“Us!_ If you ask us.” his brother proclaimed vigorously just then, “The only women on that island unfit for court are the Lady Selyse herself and that red witch of hers.” _Simply a matter of fact._ Gendry felt the old anger boil up inside of him immediately. He would never accept that Shireen and Ed weren’t even permitted to set foot into the city, whilst the worst human scum could live and scheme at court unrestrained.  
_“Tom!”_ Myrcella reprimanded.  
“_What?_ Gendry said so, and it’s not like it’s a secret or anything.” Tommen countered unapologetic. _Indeed, their mother and those two bitches could climb up the walls all they wanted, once he—_ Gendry ranted internally, until Arya's laughter jolted him from his thoughts. _There we go…_  
Gendry felt a genuine smile build on his face and turned to Sansa, “Mission accomplished, wouldn’t you agree?”  
“You mean step number one of it?” she teased grinning.  
“Are you suggesting, we proceed to number two, then?”  
“No, my prince, I insist.” Sansa chuckled over her alleged bold speech. 

“What are you three laughing at?” Gendry turned in his saddle, to see the little wolf’s laughter die away at once. _Bloody hells._ “Are you two already blowing the gaff on my most embarrassing secrets to the Lady Arya?” he went on, trying to keep a straight face. _How could she just be so damn mad at him? Over a stupid jest._  
“Oh, get over yourself.” Tommen taunted right away.  
“Yeah, not everything's about you.” Myrie rolled her eyes.  
“I heard my name!” Gendry protested, “Didn’t I, Lady Sansa?”  
“Yes, my prince. But I’m sure, they only said the nicest things.” the northerner unsurprisingly played both sides.  
“Your sibling, perhaps. But I wouldn’t be so sure about mine.” _They were evil twins, he just couldn’t prove it._ So, Gendry turned backwards once more, to make sure the two smart-alecks heard him, “Pity, I can’t spill any beans about them— _oh, wait, I can!_ Care to hear something really hilarious, Lady Sansa?”  
“I’d love to.” she giggled and spurred her steed, to break into a quick canter simultaneously to his stallion.

”Nice try, idiot. Maybe next time.” Tommen scoffed, when the three of them caught up a moment later. Yet, even though Gendry suspected, the youth must have had the winds up for an instant, he cared now more about Arya’s reaction. And she wasn’t impressed either. _Not even the slightest._ She unmistakably hoped for more, as well as her stallion.

So, when they came to the small inn an hour later, disappointment was written all over her face. _She presumed this was it._ And Gendry could barely hide the broad grin that wanted to build on his face, once he suggested, “We could get some rest and refreshments here, before we return to the keep. What do you think, my ladies?” The little she-wolf looked like she wanted to smash her head into the inn’s windows. _All seven of them._ So, he quickly proceeded in his scheme, “I must admit though, Lady Sansa, it’s kind of a shame that such a marvellous steed as your sister’s won’t get his proper exercise today.” he chirped innocently, catching _her_ clearly off-guard. “I’d gladly change that. Would you mind?” Gendry deliberately didn’t look at her then.  
“No, my prince, what an excellent idea.” Sansa agreed, clearly struggling not to giggle, “We surely can spare you for a little while.” _Thanks._  
_“Your Grace,”_ Arya piped up promptly, ‘forcing’ Gendry to turn around and face her. Piercing him with her eyes, she looked like she wanted to murder him right then and there, “I thank you for the offer. But my steed doesn’t like to be ridden by strangers. He’s kind of stubborn.” _Unlike his mistress, thank the gods._  
“Oh, no, my lady, you misunderstood me.” Gendry fully enjoyed, she had gotten it wrong. “I’d hoped you’d join me for a quick ride to that old oak tree upon the hill over there.” he explained, challenging, “Unless, you’re too tired—”  
_“I’m not tired!”_ she objected outraged. _So damn cute._  
“So, it’s settled. A race, then.” Gendry wanted to guffaw, seeing the last penny drop in her mind.  
“_No, it’s not!_ I can’t leave my sister here alone—” she claimed, probably planning to quarter him now.  
“Don’t be silly, Arya. I’m not alone.” Sansa butted in.  
“Tom and I will gladly keep your sister company.” Myrcella assured swiftly, “And Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan will keep her just as safe as us, rest assured, Lady Arya.” While Tommen apparently only now realised what that meant, looking as though he couldn’t believe his luck. _You’re welcome, you little bugger._

“Well, it’s not only my sister’s reputation that’s at stake here.” Arya burst out fretted, scarcely able to contain her anger now. _Oh, come on! You can do better than that, little wolf._  
_“Arya!”_ Sansa chided at once, “You can hardly mean to imply, Prince Gendry could’ve anything else in mind but to give your mounts the exercise they crave?” _Well, actually…_  
“It’s only a few leagues, my lady. We’ll be back within half an hour.” Gendry placated, fighting back the urge to burst into laughter at her angry face. “And I assure you, your honour won’t be in question on your return. Our siblings can see us the whole way there and back.” _The crux is that they won’t hear us. But you know that already, don’t you?_  
Locking eyes with him again, she finally gave in, “_Fine,_ I’ll race you.” and even challenged, “Want a head start?” _There you are, gorgeous._  
_“Arya!”_ her sister reprimanded once again.  
But Gendry barely heard it, his eyes were fixed on Arya’s, “Do I look like I need one?”  
_“Yes.”_ she snarled and spurred her stallion, making the animal dart away over the meadows.

Luckily, Gendry had seen her little stunt coming as soon as she referenced his tease from the vault, and followed her right behind, certain he would catch up. Although, he naturally wanted her to win this race – in hope, it would appease her wounded pride – he had never meant to hand it to her on a silver platter. He also had his pride, and even suspected, she wouldn’t appreciated it, if he played the sitting duck. However, he hadn’t expected her to let him catch up and then go _that fast_ full speed, or that her mount enjoyed mocking him and his steed even more than his mistress; making them both look like utter fools.

Gendry reached the top of the hill mere moments after her. _Yet, that bastard grazed, as if he’d been there all fucking day._ Whilst she leaned against the oak tree, cockily mirroring his pose from the past day. “You’re late, Your Grace.” she announced smirking, and even bowed to him to mock him further.  
“I can see that.” Gendry burst into laughter at the scene.

Yet, he nearly choked on it as her smug grin vanished, making way for all the anger she had piled up since the vaults. _“So, here I am.”_ she snarled, “What do you want? My help in wooing my sister? _Fine._ Anything, to teach that Tyrell viper a lesson…” _Huh?_  
“Err, as tempting as teaching a lesson to certain people sounds,” he retorted baffled, “ honestly just thought you might like to go riding… a real ride, I mean. I’d hoped it were a good way to make amends for Joffrey’s misbehaviour—”  
“And what about your own behaviour, Your Grace?” she interrupted him livid. _For that of course, too._  
Yet, somehow he couldn’t help playing the fool now, “What do you mean?”  
“Not telling me who you are, stupid.” she huffed fretted, “I hope you enjoyed my silly face last night. Because, thanks to you, now everyone thinks I’m swooning over you—” _Was that the problem? What vexed her so much?_  
“But you're not?” he questioned amused, locking eyes with her.  
_“No, of course not.”_ she shot back, sounding offended someone could even assume the like. _No, Arya Stark was no swooning fool._  
“I like that.” Gendry told her upfront, studying her reaction.  
“Then why pretend we hadn’t met yet?” she frowned, clearly puzzled.  
“Maybe I like the two of us sharing a secret?”  
_“Rubbish.”_ she stormed angrily to her stallion and mounted up, speedier and more graceful than Gendry had ever seen a woman move. _He could watch her do this an entire day._ Only she wasn’t in the mood for it, she turned her steed around to head back to the inn. _Fuck._

“I did it to protect you.” Gendry burst out, steering his mount next to hers before she could escape again.  
“Liar!” she refused to meet his gaze once more.  
“I’m not lying.” he retorted calm.  
“Doesn’t matter. I told you, I can handle myself. I don’t need your protection.” she huffed annoyed, “In fact, you’re lucky you’re still alive. I nearly stabbed you down there in the vaults.”  
“I didn’t realise you were armed, then.” Gendry studied her, wondering if she carried a hidden knife.  
“You were, stupid.” she rolled her eyes. _He liked her calling him so, as though it were nothing._  
“You’d kill a man with his own blade?” he teased chuckling.  
“Without blinking.” she scowled at him, making it so damn hard not to laugh then. _“I’m serious.”_

“So am I, my lady.” he countered stern, “Some people here would do anything to gain power.”  
“You mean the Lady Margaery?” she asked unimpressed.  
“Amongst others.”  
“Then why not send her away?” she snorted, obviously not really seeing the issue.  
“Don’t you think I'd long done that, if I could? If it wouldn’t insult entire House Tyrell?” he shot back, sounding harsher than he intended. _Watch it, idiot._ Only, she didn’t even bat an eye at his tone. On the contrary, of a sudden Gendry seemed to have her full attention. _Huh._

They studied each other for a moment in silence, before he told her, “There’s only one way to get her to back off.” Which seemed to confuse her even more, so he clarified, “If I and my brothers marry someone else.”  
“Then why not do that, marry someone else?” she questioned, again failing to see his point. “Marry my sister!” she blurted, as if that were the solution he had overlooked as of yet. _Seven hells._ “She’s not as stupid as you think, you need a brain to play that dumb.” the she-wolf advocated her sister’s case so adorably clumsy, Gendry couldn’t help chuckling.  
“Actually, I think your sister’s one of the brightest people at court, if not in the Seven Kingdoms.” he countered and tried to steer their conversation back to their original subject, “But you see, there were other girls, not quite so shrewd. They all disappeared rather quickly. Some even disgraced, once certain people thought they’d got too close to me. So, believe me, Lady Arya, you don’t want _anyone_ to know, you and I spent time alone in those vaults… your sister's the only one that managed to outwit ‘the viper’, as you call her so aptly, this long.”

“That’s because Sansa’s a wolf.” Arya told him proudly, harping on about her sister, “She’s like Lady, sweet and gentle. But that doesn’t mean she won’t bite your head off, if you taunt her enough.” _For fuck’s sake…_  
“I know.”  
“Then what’re you waiting for? You'll hardly find a more beautiful bride.” she snorted, still not getting his point. _Take a fucking look in a mirror, woman!_  
“You surprise me, Lady Arya.” Gendry chuckled disbelieving, tempted to speak his mind plainly now, “As I’d understood, the Stark sisters fight like cats and dogs. Yet, here you are, fiercely championing your sister—”  
“Just because I don’t like her, doesn’t mean I don’t love her.” Arya snapped, unwittingly sparking some hope in him. _Could that apply to him as well, one day?_ Though, as if she had heard his thoughts, the little wolf narrowed her eyes and warned, “And I won’t have her disrespected or disgraced, by neither you nor that Tyrell.”  
“I've no intentions to do that.” Gendry assured, and decided to tell her truth then, “It’s just, um… err, I’m not entirely sure about your sister’s feelings for me.” Knowing, he walked on very thin ice now, he chose his wording carefully, “I’m not saying, she’s doing it deliberate. You know, to mislead me like others do. Though to me it seems, as if your sister’s more smitten with the idea of marrying the future king than actually with me as a person.”

Yet, to his surprise, she remained calm and studied him for a moment, before she once more came to the wrong conclusion, “And you want her to love you?” _No, bloody hells!_  
“Well, I suppose I’d hoped to find someone, who, you know… loves all of me, and not just my degree and titles.” he struggled to speak out loud what he needed her to know, “And with your sister, please, don't get me wrong, Lady Arya. I really like her, _I do…_ but somehow I’m relieved, she isn’t actually in love with me. Since I’m not sure if I could return the affection—”  
“Then you’re an idiot!” she spat, spurring her stallion to speed up. _Fuck._  
“I never promised your sister anything! Never even mentioned matrimony to her…” Gendry called after her. But either Arya didn’t hear him anymore or pretended not to. Leaving him right where he had started off, not even a tenth-inch closer. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

She refused to talk and look at him once more, back at the inn with their siblings and all the way to the royal stables. Where Gendry one last time tried to change that, in vain though. She not only declined his offer, to find her a skilled stableboy to exercise her stallion adequately, she even seemed outright offended at the notion. “Thank you, Your Grace, but that privilege belongs to Harwin.” she told him brusquely, “My father’s household guard, who raised and trained him.” _For fuck’s sake, did she have to get hold of the wrong end of the stick with everything?_

Gendry even seemed to have made things worse. While he escorted the two sisters back to the Tower of the Hand, she kept a full fifteen feet distance to him and Sansa – as though they just coincidentally walked into the same direction in front of her. Apart from reluctantly thanking him for the ride and bidding him goodbye outside the tower, Arya Stark acted completely as if he wasn’t even there. _As though he simply didn’t exist in her world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CERSEI 
> 
> In my story-universe, she loves Gendry just as much as his 3 siblings. During her pregnancy she maybe thought, she couldn't and wouldn’t, but he quickly proved her wrong. He looks like his father, but isn’t much like his father. He’s all Cersei once hoped what Robert would be like. Empathetic, thoughtful, (mostly) reasonable and smart. He doesn’t whore and rarely gets (badly) drunk, unlike Robert. He’s a talented fighter, skilled with several weapons and even quite ambitious in tourneys. Still, he doesn’t like violence (unlike Robert). Hunting was part of his education, but he doesn’t like to kill for sport (like his sire does). And although, he hates Cersei’s vicious and scheming side, he doesn’t dismiss her intelligence (like Robert does). When he needs advice, like on state affairs or other matters, such as dealing with all the women trying to lure him into marriage, he appreciates her advice and sometimes he even acts accordingly - if he agrees with her. So, yes, Cersei loves him. She’s even quite proud of him and believes, he has the means to become a great king. 
> 
> But when it comes to Joffrey, she prefers to turn a blind eye on his cruel and stupid nature. And it’s just easier for her to use a mistake Gendry made to excuse Joffrey’s mistakes. Because this way, she doesn’t have to blame herself for maybe spoiling Joff in his upbringing, making him believe he’s entitled to do as he pleases.


	5. The Wolf Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the weeks after the ride, Arya is avoiding Gendry like a plague. Systematically, even. But if that wouldn't hurt him enough, she merrily roams the Red Keep and the crownlands with Ned on a nearly daily basis. So, Gendry now runs the risk to constantly stumble upon the happy couple wherever he goes. And he can't tell what's worse for him, actually seeing them together, laughing and smiling and bantering all the time. Or not seeing them and watching his worst case scenarios happen in his inner cinema. But what else can he do? If Arya has made her choice, he needs to learn to live with it. Only, Myrcella is not in the mood to let him wallow in self-pity in peace - not as long as her big brother still refuses to give her and Trystane his blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the counterpart to chapter 5 ("The Wolf Hunt") in "That's Not Me" (Part 1 of the series "What If ... He Was A Prince").
> 
> About this chapter here:  
Depending on how writing the intro for chapter 6 will go, I might once again add another scene at the ending of this chapter here. I hope not, but who knows?

In the two fortnights after their ride together, Arya Stark and Gendry’s paths crossed again on several occasions. But it didn’t take a genius for him to understand, she avoided him wherever she could. Since once she couldn’t, she kept their interactions at an absolute minimum, letting whoever was with her then deal with him, so she could go on overlooking him. _As though he was a bloody ghost._

While Gendry had his own reasons to keep his distance and his eyes off of her, the scope of her unwillingness to face him stunned him still. She seemed to learn his daily routines within no time. Only, unlike most other courtiers, she was interested in the times he usually wasn’t around. Such as the mornings, he spent at Mott’s shop on the Street of Steel. Or his spare afternoons, when he typically went riding, so Margaery and Sansa or whichever ladies-in-waiting couldn’t invite him to cake or other nonsense. But as the Hand’s daughter, Arya naturally also knew when the small council was in session; when Gendry couldn’t be found wandering around in the palace either. And the little she-wolf fully used that knowledge to her own advantage, as he came to understand by the end of the third sennight.

First, he glimpsed her rushing down to the vaults, when his destrier throwing a shoe had delayed his attendance at the council meeting that afternoon. Then a few days later, when he skipped riding, to meet with the bootmaker and the tailor, he literally ran right into her on his way to get Balerion a small treat from the kitchens beforehand. But unfortunately she regained her wits quicker than him at the unexpected encounter, and was gone again afore he could even respond to her speedy greeting. Yet, as though that hadn’t made him feel despised enough, he found her chasing Balerion in the vaults mere two days later, once he returned early from the smithy through the tunnels. Only this time, he heard her and the tomcat in time to hide, before she could turn tail on him once more. And from then on, Gendry was almost certain it was no coincidence, she was in the vaults right then – when he typically was not. _She did it on purpose…_

However, this realisation wasn’t what hurt him the most. He had spent the evening after their ride once more with Ned Dayne. Not so much to straightaway break the news to his friend, how he had catapulted himself out of their little competition. It was rather out of old habit to seek his advice, whenever he felt he couldn’t talk to anyone else. Just as that night, when he had felt utterly defeated and clueless. Though unsurprisingly, Gendry came to regret quickly, to have given the Dornishman the final push then to invite Arya to a walk in the gardens the next day.

For again, his friend succeeded where he could not. With ease, as Gendry begrudgingly realised, when he spontaneous decided to take Shireen’s latest letter to his siblings in the gardens himself that afternoon. Only to spot the she-wolf bubbling over with laughter already from afar. _Just what was her goddamn problem? Why could she be like this with Ned, yet not with him? They weren’t that different, not in their mind-sets and skills… or interests, obviously._ “Seems like those two get along quite well.” his sister’s remark rouse Gendry from his straying thoughts. _Far too well._  
“About time he overcomes his jitters,” he retorted, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, “before you can get any more ideas about pairing him up with one of your little friends here.”  
“Did you know, she’s only a year older than me?” Myrcella intentionally ignored his side blow.  
“While Ned’s of age with a certain Martell?” Gendry hissed, hoping for a change that was indeed her point. _She couldn’t already know, could she?_ He wondered and turned to their brother, “Care to go for a ride? That airhead over there doesn’t seem to need his hunting mare anymore.”  
“Well, then let’s steal the bloody nag.” Tom’s face lit up at once. The youth was dying to get his own hunting steed now more than ever, after witnessing the little she-wolf outrun his big brother so masterfully.

However, borrowing their friend’s mount, to race his little brother through the crownlands, naturally didn’t solve Gendry’s problem. It merely provided at short relief, a way to vent his frustration for a while, quite like sparring in the mornings did – nothing more. Gendry knew, he could run his stallion into the ground, and yet upon his return to the keep Arya Stark would still refuse to even look at him. _Whilst showering Ned with never-ending smiles and laughter._ Since unsurprisingly, their first walk in the gardens had led to more strolls; almost every day now. And when the two of them weren’t endlessly roaming the palace grounds together, Ned of course took her riding. So, Gendry now also ran the risk of stumbling upon them on his own rides.

Which he more and more often took alone, given most of his friends still sojourned in the stormlands. While now both his remaining friends at the keep had laid their eyes on women, Gendry felt weren’t theirs to look at. _At least not in that way._ In fact, of the two Dornishmen, he soon even preferred Trystane for a riding companion, despite that they only exchanged empty pleasantries nowadays – if anything at all. Since those rides at least gave him the satisfaction, to keep his sister and the southern prince from ogling one another across the palace gardens for a while. Whereas, his rides with Ned now felt like walking on the cliffs at Durran’s Point in a storm-tossed night. As long as the two friends talked, things were fine, even if they talked about her. But every moment of silence between them screamed her name at the deafening volume of howling storms at Shipbreaker Bay. Reminding Gendry inevitably of all the things they didn’t say – didn’t dare to. Why he soon couldn’t tell anymore which was worse for him, actually seeing Ned and _her_ together, or imagining _their bloody lovey-dovey faces_ when they weren’t around.

Before her arrival, Gendry had thought, he had already reached his lowest point in terms of his marriage prospects. _But bloody hells, had he been wrong._ Dreading to end up with a scheming bitch he hated, was nothing against this now. When he dreaded to end up with Margaery, whilst his best friend won _her_ over. Hence before long, Gendry even caught himself inwardly thanking every man, who pursued the fierce northern beauty as well. Even though, a blind deaf-mute could tell from a league away, none of them stood a chance against the handsome young lord. Nevertheless, Gendry was grateful for any man that tried. Just for giving him a short break from constantly seeing or knowing that she was with him.

Therefore, he could have kissed Renly and Loras and the rest of the lot, when they finally returned to the capital – after truly the second longest moon’s turn in his life. Despite that it had seemed only a matter of time, until his uncle figured out what was wrong with him of a sudden. Three days precisely, before Renly picked up where Edric had left off; teasing him about the little she-wolf whenever they were just the two of them. Still, having him back at court, made things a lot more bearable for Gendry. And not only because of the considerable amount of time the she-wolf now spent with Loras and Renly, as they both resumed their feigned courtships of her promptly.

Like no one else, his nonchalant uncle managed to get Gendry to laugh about himself, even in this entirely messed-up situation now. Renly’s countless wild theories, about the Starks’ bewitching allures on Baratheon men, was always good for a hearty laugh. As they of course always led to the same conclusion, how only the company of a handsome southern knight provided a sufficient antidote to the dangerous charms of these northerners – deliberately ignoring the one big flaw in all them, namely that Arya Stark’s magic worked perfectly fine on Renly and Loras as well.

Thus, when Myrcella some days later caught him slumped down on his bedchamber balcony, to hide from prying eyes, as he gazed through the ornamented gaps of the balustrade, Gendry actually managed not to snarl at her forthwith.  
“So, are you going to do something about that?” she sat down across from him, nodding at their friend and the little she-wolf down in the orchard below. _And here we go …_  
“About you entering my bedroom without knocking? You bet.” he turned to face her, raising his brows reproachfully.  
“I did knock, outside in the hallway—” Myrcella countered unapologetic.  
“And the guards there surely told you, I was busy.” Gendry went on reprimanding her.  
“_Doing what?_ Feeling sorry for yourself, because for once in your life a woman isn’t straightaway mad about you?” _Hang on!_  
“That’s not what I’m— _that’s not what this’s about!_ You don’t even know what you’re talking…” he objected fretted, unwilling to explain himself to his smart-aleck baby sister. _This had nothing to do with her not swooning like the others… he wasn’t that kind of man._  
Only, Myrcella ignored him, “My point is, they’re going riding quite often.” she nodded once more at Ned and his lady love down in the orchard, “And since Arya and I are friends now, I’m sure if I’d suggest that Trystane and I—” _Over his dead body!_  
_“No,”_ Gendry hissed and got up, “you’re _not_ going riding with him.” he stomped furiously back into his bedchamber. _He wouldn’t discuss that Dornish son of a bitch yet again._

But his sister followed him right away, grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving his quarters, “_Don’t you get it?_ If we’d go riding with them, you could chaperone us—” _Was she fucking jesting?_  
_“Chaperone you?”_ Gendry scowled outraged down at her, “Darling sister, I don’t remember endorsing any courtship.”  
“Seems like you don’t have much of choice now—” Myrcella glared straight back at him. _She was bluffing._  
“Because otherwise you spill the beans to Mother?” he challenged, “Go on, then! I’m sure, Catelyn Tully will be thrilled to have the Lannisters and Tyrells throw the lovebirds’ wedding feast.”  
“You know damn well, I don’t want to tell her.” his sister huffed, “But _I will_, if you go on being such a bastard. Tom, Renly, Shireen and Ed and even Ned are all fine with me and Trystane… so, why the hells do you have to side with the bullies of the family a sudden?”  
“_I’m_ the bully? Have you heard yourself lately, how much you sound like Mother?”  
“Because I _have to!_ With a stubborn thickhead for a brother like you.” 

“You’re _not_ going riding with him.” Gendry growled unyielding. _He wouldn’t watch one friend trying to get into his sister’s undergarments, while the other tried to get into the very same ones as he wanted._  
“So, you just go on furtively scowling at them from up here?” Myrcella asked unbelieving.  
“Looks like it.”  
“And _how’s_ that working for you so far?” _Better than watching it from up close._ “I mean, I give you that, leaving the field to Ned and all those nincompoops at least keeps Margaery off your scent.” his sister retorted cynically, “But you’ve to admit, you’re nowhere nearer to winning her round than you were on that ride, when you _so completely_ blew it with that race.”  
“Perhaps, but that’s _my_ business, not yours, Myrie.” Gendry growled warning.

“_Come on,_ don’t be like that.” she changed her tactic, giving him the innocent look now, “I really think I can help you, make Arya see who you really are…” _Unbelievable._  
“You _really_ are our mother’s daughter.” he rolled his eyes, yet felt his anger crumble already. _Damnit._  
“But you love me still.” Myrcella grinned confidently up at him, wrapping her arms around his waist to hug him. _Yeah, the hells, he did._  
“Not for much longer, if you go on like this.” he growled, fighting the amused smile that wanted to build on his face, when he hugged her back.  
“On the contrary,” Myrcella taunted, “You’ll love me more than ever, once I caught that wolf for you.” _Un-fucking-believable._  
“Which of course you’d do out of the _mere_ goodness of your selfless heart?” Gendry chuckled, no longer able to hide his smile, “In return for just a teeny-weeny favour such as supporting you and _him?_”  
“I always knew you’d find some brain in that thick head of yours.” she grinned happy.

Making it all the harder to deny her wish, “No, little monkey, I _can’t_ do that.”  
“Come on, big brother.” Myrcella punched his chest playfully, unwilling to give up now, “I saw how happy you were at the inn. All smiling, teasing and chasing her…”  
“Well, then you surely also saw how she, if anything, only looked at me to scowl and snap… and now she wants Ned, and I—”  
_“Are you blind?”_ Myrcella wriggled out of his arms, looking unbelieving up at him once more, “She doesn’t want Ned.”  
“How would _you_ know?”  
His sister rolled her eyes, “_Because_ she compares him with her brother, the one at the Wall. And did so several times now.” _Jon?_  
Yet, unwilling to give in to hope again, Gendry snorted, “That doesn’t mean—”  
“Yeah, silly, _it does!_ She’s no Targaryen.” Myrcella shook her head, “And if you don’t believe me, maybe some more gawking from that balcony will do you some good after all.” before she then angrily snapped, “Or do you really think me so selfish that I’d mess this up for Ned, if I thought he’d stand a chance with her? Just to get your blessing for me and Trystane?”  
“Of course, not—” he tried to placate her.  
But she just went on with her little rant, “I’m not saying, _you_ can win her over, just that you at least should try. Because I fear, _that_ wolf down there will break Ned’s heart, no matter what you do. And yes, perhaps she even breaks yours, too. But what’s the other option? Do nothing, and watch her marry Ned or whoever else? While you marry Sansa, just to finally be rid of the Tyrells? Or will you put on a brave face then and marry Margaery, to spare Tommen the pain?”

His sister didn’t say much more after that and didn’t let him say much more either, she hadn’t gotten, what she had hoped for. But she knew, she had given him something to think on – and enough motivation to at least consider to perhaps, eventually, one day change his mind about her and the Dornish prince. Yet, unsurprisingly that wasn’t what Gendry’s thoughts revolved around the following days. His mind was far too busy wondering, if maybe Myrcella was right. If maybe his jealousy of Ned had made him blind to what was actually going on. If maybe his best friend had fallen for a woman that maybe didn’t return his feelings, and maybe never would. If maybe he still stood a chance, if maybe he could appease her once more. If maybe he could find a way to finally woo her himself, and if possibly he could be the one to win her heart in the end.

But unfortunately Gendry failed to come up with an idea to get Arya to talk one-to-one with him. Even catching her in the vaults seemed rather tricky of a sudden, now that his uncle and the Knight of Flowers also made encroachments on her time. And the one morning he actually managed to head her off there, she escaped again as soon as she saw it was him that restrained Balerion from answering her calls. Leaving the reproachful growling tomcat in his arms behind. “I’m sorry, old grump.” Gendry sighed dischuffed, while compensating the animal with some crumbs of cheese, “I just don’t know what else to do, you know, besides locking her up in here with us forever…”

A notion that overnight and during the next few days sounded more and more tempting. _Anyhow better than handing his sister to that Dornish fucker on a silver platter._ And especially whilst working on inept chunks of armour for even more inept self-important pricks, as he did in the course of that sennight. When suddenly Mott’s house maid came to his forge, “Um, Gendry, there’s a fancy lady in the backyard that wants to talk to you.”  
_“What lady?”_ he stared alarmed at the servant girl.  
“Err, I didn’t get her name. Should I go ask?” _Yeah!_  
“No, she might take that the wrong way.” Gendry growled sullenly, “What does she look like?”  
“Pretty. Real pretty, wearing an absolutely fabulous green dress—” _Could he really run out of luck so sudden?_  
“I meant _her,_ Elinor, the woman, what does she look like?” he interrupted the girl, “Eye colour? Hair? Build? Things like that.” _Though, who else would come here in a fancy green dress?_  
“Well, I didn’t really look her in the eyes.” the servant girl told him sheepishly, “But she has long brown hair, slightly curly. Really shiny and nicely dressed.” _Of course, it was the fucking bitch._  
Rolling his eyes, he sighed, “Say, sweet Elinor, could you by any chance muster enough courage to tell her to fuck off? Or at least that you didn’t find me here?”  
“You know I would, but Master Mott—” the girl nudged his arm in panic now, _“She’s here! In the barn!”_ _Fuck._ Gendry turned around, mentally still cursing. _That bloody fucking— SEVEN HELLS!_  
_“Arya?”_ slipped out from his mouth, as he gaped at her thunderstruck.

“My lady, what’re you doing here?” he stammered, when he at last recalled his manners again. _Seven bloody hells!_ There she stood in Tobho Mott’s stone barn, amidst a bunch of grimy sweaty men. _Arya fucking Stark, looking more gorgeous than ever._  
She seemed no less perplexed, seeing him there, “Um, Tommen, well, your brother… the armourer, he’s taking his measurements… Your Grace.” she stammered even worse than him.  
“Um, okay.” he uttered, barely able to think a straight thought. _He was dreaming, right? Why should she be in Mott’s smithy, out of all places?_  
“I told her to wait outside!” Elinor exclaimed still aghast.  
“I’m sorry.” Arya muttered reflexively and bit her lower lip, seemingly ashamed over her intrusion. _Wow, that truly felt unreal._  
Making Gendry finally regain his poise, “Don’t worry, Elinor.” he appeased the startled maid chuckling, “The Lady Arya isn’t exactly known for doing as she’s told. Isn’t that right, my lady?” _She was here. For real._

He walked up to her, feeling his overjoyed smile grow into a broad happy grin, “So, my lady went exploring again, hm?” he teased careful, hoping to break the ice.  
“No.” she growled, scarcely able to look at him. “It’s just, the barn smelt— sounded like the smithy at home…” she told him reluctantly. _So, she still was homesick._ “I was only told you were at the barn, I didn’t know you’d be…” she bit her lip again, abashed.  
“Working?” he guessed the ending of her sentence, to reach out to her. But she only nodded and dropped her gaze. _Wait… no, she was sizing him up!_ Gendry realised stunned once more, whilst her eyes unmistakably trailed downwards over his upper body. Swallowing visibly, she dropped her glance speedily to the ground. _Seven hells, was she nervous because of him? No, the infamous she-wolf of Winterfell could hardly be intimidated by a bare chest, could she? Might it be, she simply liked what she saw?_

Her eyes still fixed to the ground, she eventually asked, “So, you work here?”  
“Sometimes.” he replied, struggling once more to think straight. _She was breath-taking, her heat-flushed skin covered in that thin layer of fresh sweat—_  
“Why?” she finally looked up at him again. _Gods, if he hadn’t known it already, he would’ve known it now. He wanted her— For fuck’s sake, get your shit together!_ his own mind interrupted his straying thoughts. _Right, he couldn’t afford to screw this up again._  
“It was my hideout when I was little.” he tried to focus solely on their conversation, “I was here so often, Master Mott one day jested, I could just as well apprentice for him.”  
“And so, you did?” she questioned smiling. _Yes. Yes. Yes. There we go…_  
“So, I did.” he smiled back at her.  
“And the king and queen just let you?” she asked astounded.  
“Once they found out, I was already halfway done with my apprenticeship. And Arryn convinced them, it were a good thing. So, here I am.” he grinned. _This was it, this was what he wanted. Sharing things with her that mattered._

But of course, he wanted her to open up as well, “But, pray, how come my lady stumbled into Mott’s shop with Tommen today? Has my little brother now also joined the wolf hunt?” he teased, to keep her talking.  
_“What?”_ she exclaimed indignant. _Shit._  
“I was only jesting. I think I’d know, if Tom—”  
“No, I meant, there’s a _name_ for it? As though it were some game?” she was far from amused. _Though, for once not because of him._  
“I fear so.” he bit his lip, to not chuckle at her cute angry face again.  
“Seven hells…” she huffed outraged.  
“Seven hells, indeed.” he agreed, enjoying he no longer was the target of her wrath, “First, everyone was afraid of rabies, upon hearing the she-wolf of Winterfell was coming down south, and now half court’s pursuing you—”  
“I’m no bloody trophy!” she snapped livid. _No, she was so much more than those ninnies up there could ever fathom._  
“Tell me about it!”  
“So, with you it’s the stag hunt?” she scoffed.  
“Probably.” he chuckled, “All I ever heard was a joke about your sister and Margaery. About a rose growing strong for two decades, only to have a fledgling wolf snatch her prey from under her nose.”  
“And you’re hiding in here until either lose interest?” she laughed.  
“Well,” he couldn’t help teasing, “_One wolf_ evidently managed to sniff me out here now.” _One, he so wouldn’t mind falling prey to._

“Aye, one in need of a hideout herself. So, you obviously have nothing to fear from me.” she huffed frustrated, before suddenly blurting, “Could I hide here?” _What?_ For a flash, Gendry had felt disappointed that she once again refused to engage with his teasing… _And then that._  
He was at a loss of words, once more, “Err, well—”  
“Just today!” she outright beseeched him. _What the fuck, the little she-wolf wanted him to hide her from her suitors?_  
“Um, you see, while I’m here I’m just a journeyman. And I’ve work to do—”  
“I don’t mind.” she burst out speedy. “I can, err…” she looked past him, spotting the old stool by his forge, “sit over there and watch.” _Huh?_  
“You want to sit _there,_ on that dirty stool, and _watch_ me work?” he uttered incredulous.  
“I won’t disturb you, I promise.” she clearly had made her mind up. However, just when Gendry wanted to feel flattered she let slip, the whole thing had absolutely nothing to do with him. “Mikken and I usually talked, but if you prefer silence, then I just sit there like a mute. You won’t even know I’m there.” _And who the fuck was Mikken now? Her lover in Winterfell, or what?_ Gendry wanted to throw his hands up in frustration over this girl.  
Yet, he gave in nonetheless, “Alright.” and told the now fully dumbstruck Elinor to get them some clean cloth for the grimy stool. “I won’t return you all mucky again.” he insisted, seeing Arya was about to object.

Though, when the pretty she-wolf then took her seat, curiously watching his every move in quiet, Gendry suddenly felt tense and even nervous – really nervous. His hands almost trembled. _Bloody hells…_ No woman had managed that since Aly. Only, back then he had been a green youngling, who had had all reason to be nervous, considering he had had no idea what he was doing. And Gendry certainly had learned to handle women since – the only good thing that came from having Margaery hover over him all the time. He could dally with girls and keep them at bay, even both at once, without most of them noticing it. He could deal with the ones only pursuing his crown, as well as the ones solely attracted to his looks. _So, how in bloody hells was he now nigh shaking in front of this tiny woman?_ At Mott’s shop out of all places, where he could move around blind-folded, if he wanted. 

“I think I don’t mind some talking, either.” Gendry eventually blurted, when he no longer could stand the tension.  
And she of course fully enjoyed her little victory over him, “And what’d you like to talk about?” she taunted grinning. _For real?_  
“Um, I don’t know…” he scratched the back of his head and studied her for a moment, before he awkwardly asked, “Want to tell me about that Mikken of yours?”  
“He’s not _my_ Mikken, stupid.” she bubbled over with laughter in her seat. _Yes!_ “He’s old and fat and happily married. He’s our master blacksmith at Winterfell, and my friend. He made my needle, you know.”  
_“Your needle?”_ Gendry questioned puzzled. _Why’d a master blacksmith bother with such?_  
“My sword!” she laughed at him once more. _This girl… _  
“So, it’s true, my lady’s a swordswoman?” he asked amazed.  
“Yap.” she grinned mischievous. _Hence the cat chasing, to keep her reflexes sharp— Or was she perhaps doing a bit more than that in those vaults?_  
“Interesting.” Gendry muttered, more to himself than to her. Before he then asked, how of all things, she came to pick that name for her sword. Making her chuckle and tell him downright proud, because it were the only needle she would know to wield. _She truly was one of a kind._

And now that they were finally talking – _really talking_ – Gendry at last managed to relax around her, despite that she still eyed him up. _Head to toe,_ he noticed, when he in return stole repeated glances at her and wondered, _if she even realised, she was doing it?_ She didn’t look like it, describing her life in Winterfell to him, whilst he worked ridiculous amounts of gold embellishments into an already excessively ornated show-off breast plate.

It was fascinating, how much her view on the place differed from what Sansa had told him. Almost as though they described two entirely different places in the North – one cold and lonely and long forgotten by the world and the other brimming with life and laughter and warmth.

But more so, Arya’s version made abundantly clear, how gravely the little she-wolf missed her home and her loved ones there. Leading Gendry inevitably to the question, _How could she then ever feel home somewhere else?_ A troubling thought, he tried to banish promptly from his mind. _One step at a time,_ he tried to reason with himself, _Maybe first win her affections, afore you wrack your brains over issues you elsewise never face._

However, over all his own pondering, it slipped Gendry’s attention that she had suddenly grown quiet again. _Shit._ For a moment, he was close to panic, fearing he had ruined things somehow again. _For fuck’s sake, how bloody hard can it be to stay on the right side of this woman?_ Before it dawned on him, _Well done, genius! Drilling a homesick girl with questions about her home, just brilliant, really…_

He instantly tried to change the subject, telling her how Tommen envied her for her mount. Wherefore their family now hardly could have a meal together anymore, without the lad bringing up that the Hand had deemed her, a tiny woman, old enough for a hunting steed at fourteen. In hope, that would prick their father’s masculine pride into gifting him one already too; even if it were just to shut him up again. And how he, Gendry, had made the mistake to steal Ned’s mare to race him, while she so kindly had kept their friend busy in the gardens for the time. But that only would have made things worse, since Tommen now would want to borrow the mount whenever he saw her and Ned together in the keep. It made her laugh again and even taunt, they could steal that mare all they wanted, but it wouldn’t help either of them to outrun her on her stallion. Only, her laughter then didn’t reach her eyes anymore, and the waggishness in her voice sounded no longer at ease, as it had earlier.

So, Gendry decided to just call it a day for now. _He had learned his lesson. Pressing her didn’t lead anywhere, except to the opposite outcome as desired._ Hence, he finished the embellishment he was currently working on and set the piece of armour aside to clean up his workspace. Yet, by then she seemed already lost in thoughts again, working her lower lip, she gazed frowning into space. “My lady, are you alright?” he addressed her cautiously.  
“Err, yeah, I was just thinking about something.” she retorted slightly embarrassed.  
“More like brooding over something.” he carefully teased.  
Which she overlooked, as she apparently only now realised, he had stopped working, “Are you done?”  
“For today, yes.” he smiled at her and for a moment her smile in response even reached her eyes. _Thank the gods, he hadn’t completely screwed up this time._ Before she quickly averted her gaze again, knitting her brows once more. _Time to let her go._ “How about you check on Tommen now? I’ll join you in a moment then.” Gendry suggested, yet she only nodded and followed him wordlessly out of the stone barn. “Make sure, he commissions some decent armour.” Gendry called after her, as she rushed across the yard to the shop room. “If I see him running around in such fancy ornamented mirrors as you just saw at my forge, I’ll blame you, my lady.” he jested, trying to cheer her up one last time. Yet again, she only answered with a quick nod. _Damn._

He swiftly washed himself at the well by the barn and changed back into his clean attire from the keep, before he followed her to the ground-floor room of Mott’s house. Where his master just then showed her the drafts of his most outstanding work. But her quietness at it spoke volumes. _She wasn’t in the mood for it now._ And so, Gendry intervened quickly, claiming the queen would want a word with him and his siblings before noon. “But I know nothing of—” Tom objected prompt, before a warning glance got him to reconsider, “Oh, right, I forgot. Apologies, Master Mott. I’m afraid we’ve to leave it at that, for today at least.”

Despite the she-wolf’s evident relief at hearing that, Gendry chose to ride at the rear with Jaime and the Stark man on their way back to the keep. _No need to push his luck._ Especially since Tommen wasn’t much more successful in cheering her up. The youngling babbled happily away about his new armour and his great plans for the next tourney, but it provoked near to no response from her. _So, perhaps it really was just homesickness?_ And nothing Gendry had said or done. _Besides idiotically reminding her of everything and everyone she dearly missed._

He had managed to get her to laugh and genuinely smile at him again, though. And that was more than he could’ve hoped for ahead of her unexpected call to the smithy. Not to mention the even more unforeseen discovery that she actually seemed to like him. _Physically, leastwise._ Which, according to his baby sister, was more than Ned Dayne could say for himself. _Yet, no matter, if that was true or not…_ Gendry’s view on his own prospects with the little wolf changed radically this day, as well as his approach on pursuing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HORSES
> 
> Gendry and Ned own each at least two horses. As trained knights, a destrier, a big steed, strong enough to carry a man in full armour and trained not to waver charging at the enemy’s cavalry lines. And a leaner steed - agile and surefooted on different grounds and therefore perfect for hunting or racing.
> 
> Tommen only owns a destrier for jousting/riding at rings/at quintain, yet. And a very gentle horse for riding in the countryside - Cersei is afraid her youngest pup could get hurt. But at 14, Tommen feels he is a grown man, even more so since he and Gendry could convince Robert to allow him competing with the grown ups in jousting in the next tourney. So, he now thinks a gentle old horse is not enough for him anymore, he wants a hunting steed for racing now himself. And Gendry agrees, and therefore lets him borrow his hunting stallion if he doesn't need it and knows Ned won't mind Tommen borrowing his steed, either. So, 'stealing' his horse, isn't that big of a prank.
> 
> RENLY AND LORAS
> 
> Renly grew up with his two big brothers constantly looking down at him, So, he probably could relate quite well to Gendry’s struggles growing up as Cersei’s and Robert’s son. And the both of them probably bonded over that. Renly making sure, Gendry didn’t give in to self-doubts too often, and Gendry looking up to the only older person/grown up who actually seemed to understand and see him for who he really is. So, they have a kind of big brother-baby brother relationship, if not even a bit of a father-son-relationship. They care about each other and watch out for one another.
> 
> And that makes Renly’s relationship to Loras a bit tricky. All characters in this story are 7 years older than their canon counterparts. So, Renly and Loras have been in a relationship for over 7 years now. Meaning, they’re long past the stage of rose-coloured glasses. They had a share of ups and downs by now. And ambitious Olenna and Margaery surely cast some shadows on the two lovebirds. It puts them a bit in a dilemma. They love each other and want to be loyal to one another, but also feel a strong loyalty towards their respective families and hence had one day probably decided to handle the two things – their relationship and their families – separately as good as they can. Meaning, Renly keeps stuff concerning Gendry and his family from Loras, and Loras keeps things about Margaery and his family from Renly, to make their relationship work. But that surely is easier in theory than in reality. So, you bet they fight sometimes about Gendry and Margaery. 
> 
> And that is the reason why Renly makes sure, he doesn’t tease Gendry about Arya in front of Loras. He knows, if Loras lets accidentally slip anything to Margaery or any of his Tyrell cousins, all hell breaks loose for Arya and Gendry. And since both Renly and Loras like Arya as well, who generously helps them getting some alone time away from prying eyes, it’s even in Loras' own interest that Renly doesn’t spoil the beans to him that Gendry is about to fall in love with Arya. I would even say, Renly and Loras both secretly pray for Gendry (and Tommen) to just choose someone else as bride, so Margaery is forced to give up on him and the two of them can finally live their lives in (more) peace. So, Loras maybe even would keep Gendry’s feelings for Arya a secret from Margaery, if he knew about it. Like he knows that Gendry works at Mott's shop but keeps that from his sister as well.
> 
> HYPOCRITICAL GENDRY 
> 
> I wanted to show that even the nice guys in a feudal society can have some stupid patriarchal ideas in their heads. Plus, with Robert not really being a good/interested father and Joffrey being a sadistic idiot, Gendry always felt extremely protective over Myrcella (and Tommen). 
> 
> Therefore he now applies double standards. On one side there is his 15 year old sister, who he wants to still see as little girl, far too young in his eyes to be courted. And on the other side there is 16 year old Arya, who he is mentally and physically attracted to. He allows himself to look at Arya in a sexual way - her big brothers are far up north, so why care what they might think on the matter? While just the thought of Trystane maybe doing the same with Myrcella drives him nuts; the while he doesn't care at all, if Tommen starts having sex(ual thoughts) or if girls look at him in a sexual way.
> 
> Whereas, Tommen thinks differently, because telling Myrcella she would be too young to be courted, would mean saying that he still was a baby, too. In general, but also too young to fancy 18 year old Sansa.
> 
> WHY GENDRY FIRST THOUGHT MARGAERY CAME TO THE FORGE
> 
> Well, of course because ambitious Catelyn dolled Arya up for a date with Ser Loras, making her look show House Tyrell, that a match between Arya and Loras would be approved by House Stark. Therefore the expensive green dress and the nicely dressed hair.

**Author's Note:**

> WHEN WILL I UPLOAD THE NEXT CHAPTER?
> 
> I honestly have not the slightest idea. Since this story is mostly just a retelling of the events in "That's Not Me" from a different perspective, I don't really feel any pressure to update or finish this story. Since technically I already did finish it with "That's Not Me" (Part 1 of my series "What If ... He Was A Prince"). So, all I can say now is, I am not abandoning it. And I will add new chapters whenever I felt writing a new one. And that I'm very sorry I can't promise you any regular updates. Sometimes the next update will come within a week or a month, but it's just as likely it takes me several months to update.
> 
> YOUR OPINION
> 
> Feel free to comment your opinion on this story. But remember, English is not my first language and this is just my third attempt on writing; I never had any lessons or training in creative writing. So, please keep your criticism constructive and fair and write in English, so I and all your fellow readers can understand.


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